Stealing the Spring Frolic

I was standing in line at the spring frolic with some of my friends when I heard a couple of kids yelling my name. When I looked over they were running towards me yelling, "You won. You won." 

I thought they were joking. Me?  Win?  I went running into the gym where the elementary school principal had just pulled my name from the list of entries to win a new bicycle. 

I had been Mr. Busey's favorite for a year or so. I don't remember why or how I got to be buddies with the principal, but it made me feel kind of special.   I ran up to the stage area and remember hearing the crowd clapping. It was surreal for a 5th grader who was known only for her new cats eye glasses and general nerdiness. 

And I was allowed to pick out my own bike from the Schwinn store. 

It was raining when Mr. Busey arrived at my house in his new car to take me to the Schwinn store. We arrived and much to his chagrin I wanted the boy's version of the banana seat bike. It was one cool bike. 

When we got back to my drive, it had been thundering. And as always was the case, our dog Rebel was panicked from the noise. Which unfortunately for me meant that he would go to any lengths to find a safe place. That safe place happened to be the inside of Mr. Busey's car when I was getting out. It was quite a wrestling match between a scrawny fifth grader and a 60 pound scared wet, muddy mutt. 

I still cringe thinking about  Mr. Busey's face as my stupid dog clawed his muddy paws all over the pristine car seats. I bet he is still cleaning those seats today mumbling under his breath.

But I had my brand new bicycle. I was the coolest kid in the neighborhood. 

(Close approximate without the front disk brake wheel and was all white, no sissy pink)

Everyone loved my new bike. 

Of course with time, I rode it less and less over the next couple of years. 

And one summer day I was outside with my brothers when one of their friends came riding up in one of their bikes. I was standing there while they were talking when I kept thinking that something wasn't quite right about this bike. It was obviously a pieced together job. 

I bent over to take a good look at the disk brakes on the suspicious looking front wheel. 

Now just wait a minute. 

I suddenly realized I hadn't seen my bike for a couple of weeks and here was this chopped up bike in my driveway that was sporting a front wheel that had the only disc brake around the wheel hub that was identical to mine. 

I knew right away it was mine. When we started questioning the kid, he made some lame excuse. 

We found the stripped skeleton of my bicycle up the creek about a 1/4 mile laying in the weeds. 

That was the last bike I have ever owned. Maybe one day I'll buy myself a new bike again. 

I'm still getting the banana seat again too.