My happy place

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Photo 17-07-16, 11 43 14

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My earliest memory is on the back of my Mum’s step-through, 3-speed light blue Healing. I was not old enough to talk but I was able to sit in a seat on the back of her Healing with a duck on it. My duck seat. I recall Mum cycling my sister and I up Masters ave to the top of the hill to the shops, where the library was. It felt like such an adventure, a long way but really it was only about 1-2 kilometres. Rochelle would get books and as I couldn’t read yet, I would get big wooden block puzzles in cloth bags. I still remember where they were in the library.

I couldn’t wait to get home and do these puzzles, to see what picture they would create. It was my initiation in to problem solving and project management and another world the bicycle could give me.

We grew up on our bikes, my Dad biking to work and my sister and I exploring Silverdale, especially the shops, for our 1-cent lolly expeditions. It was a right of passage to get a new bike when we out grew ours. And a frequent occurrence to attach ice-cream container lids to our wheels to make our bikes sound like motocross bikes, and double the fun by laying wood cut-offs looping completely around the house, to ride over.

This grounding gave me a passion; a love for all things bicycle. The freedom to explore, the views, the friendships created through kilometres and sometimes through suffering. A bike ride is an adventure, an exploration in to your community, nature and in to your own mind and body. I feel very privileged to be able to enjoy this simple pleasure, of riding a bike.

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One thought on “My happy place

  1. I remember my Dad’s blue healing ten speed as some exotic lithe machine and marvelled at his 6km commute. Bike memories are the best.

    Like

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