Remember your childhood bike?

I remember mine.

She was a used, 45 pound, purple Giant. A size too large in sixth grade and a size too small in eighth. I rode ‘er to swim lessons, Teddy’s house, the river, soccer practice, off ramps into lakes, everywhere. The grips were so beat from abuse that my palms engraved a handprint into the shiny, slick metal bars beneath.

For most of us, middle school was a golden age for riding. We were young enough to wanna explore but not so young that we needed mom. We were old enough to crave freedom but not so old that we could drive.

We’re all riderz in middle school, the age right before we become too cool for school

Then we got acne, prom dates, and driver’s licenses. 

Freshman summer. I remember the nervous excitement when my dad pulled over on the way home from soccer. He asked if I wanted to drive. I was hesitant but he wasn’t so then neither was I. I drove his 4-Runner home safely, proud, then spent the next day humble-bragging to my classmates. I got my license as a sophomore and my world expanded again. It provided independence, social status, and a back-seat so I could make-out with chicks like pretty much every weekend.

Driving was cool. 

I used to pack the rig with homies, mob to Quiznos, drift in snowy lots, and see if I could hit fifty on the straight away up to the ski hill.

It was the first step towards adulthood. Then came graduation, then college, all on my journey towards becoming a grown-up. Meanwhile, my bike collected dust in the family garage. 

Side note: I wonder how much of driving’s “coolness” is tied to things like music videos, The Fast and the Furious, “success”, and propaganda from the auto industry?

I moved to Salt Lake for college and my younger sister got her license. My parents chose to give her the family rig, naturally. I was left walking to class, backpacking to the store, and running to parties. 

Back home for Christmas break. I was rummaging through the garage and there she was— my mom’s Specialized Stump Jumper… with shocks! She towered over my dusty purple Giant, her red and white frame thirsty for miles. I snuck it back to school and my world, in a different way, got bigger again.

The dilapidated alleyway next to campus turned into a flow factory for fun. The abandoned warehouse turned into a jib dojo of dopeness. I’d go to parties, run errands, and say what up to friends just so I could cruise there. 

Along the way, I discovered that my city had been hiding from me in plain sight. It was a new way of seeing, a new way of being, like a blind man given new bifocals.

If you’re here, reading this, then I bet you have a similar story. But Sydney, Rob, Pedro, and Tombay don’t.

Sydney, a former coworker, tells me she’d love to bike but is nervous she forgot how.

Rob, an unhoused man in my hood, tells me bikes used to be his favorite as a kid but it hasn’t crossed his mind to try to acquire one again.

Pedro, an old student (current high schooler), tells me that “biking ain’t cool Mr. Lucas.”

Tombay, a coffee shop homie, tells me that he used to ride all day, every day but that his bike got copped in ‘09 and now is worried about riding near cars. 

I respect if someone doesn’t want to bike. But that’s not the case for these peeps. They have an unscratched itch that they’re just now remembering. I want to help them remember.

Wellness Adventure, MT, 2023

We can help them remember.

The bike is a gateway drug to goodness. The movement is already happening.

And all you gotta do is ride.

Enroute to the watering hole - Wellness Adventure, MT, 2023

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Tell us about your journey with the bike…

Willing to share about a relationship you’ve had with your bike? A memory? A story? A journey? A theme? We’re looking to make REAL audio content with REAL cruiserz like you.

If so (virtual or in-person) CLICK HERE to find a time to record. PLEASE NOTE: these stories don't need to be epic they just need to be personal. And in fact, the more average they are the better. 

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Partner shout-out

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Quote of the week

“Play is the highest form of research.” -Albert Einstein

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