The cycle of life

I think I was about nine years old when I learnt how to ride a bicycle.  I don't think it could have been earlier than that.

As was typical of any growing up experience, my parents were not involved in my learning to bike. 

Here in the US, kids begin to learn on small cycles that have training wheels, while the parents walk or jog along.  Soon, the training wheel is off and the kid is off and pedaling. 

A few weeks ago, we saw a kid who could not have been even four years old and he was having a great time on his small little bicycle, with the father behind on his bike.  And, the family dog--of course--was keeping pace with them.

I wish I could recall when exactly I learnt how to balance on a moving bicycle.  The first time that I pedalled away without falling.  The first time that I pedaled hands free, without holding on to the handlebars.  Not even the foggiest of memory!

I do recall well the race that I had with Shyam, when I went down hard on the rough road.  The skin on my knee looked as if it had been put through a mandoline slicer.  Fortunately, home was not far away.  It was back to the Burnol and veshti treatment!

In my teenage years, my friends--especially Srikumar--and I biked all over the town.  A couple of times, we went outside the town too, though that is not something my parents knew about.

Moving to Madras practically put an end to biking.  I did not want to deal with the traffic and vehicle exhaust.  Once, I yielded to the temptation and rode to Connemara Library, which was one big mistake.  I was sweating like a pig by the time I reached the library, and the return home was worse.

After almost a five-year break from biking, one of the first things that I did as a grad student was to buy myself a bicycle.  Siddiqui bought a multi-speed bike and I bought a used single-speed bicycle, with a basket in front.

The bike got me everywhere--to campus, grocery store, and to friend's apartments.  I loved my bike, which is why I was devastated when somebody stole it.  I could not believe that somebody would steal that very old, used bike!

All the youthful excitement of biking is long gone.  When we are young, there are so many new adventures every single day, many of which would not have been possible without bicycles.  As we age, we start working and have family commitments, and the bicycle rarely plays any role in our daily lives. 

Every once in a while, we dust up the bikes and ride.  But then I realize, all over again, that B.B. King is right: The thrill is gone!