R's bike

I didn't learn to ride a bike early.

After my father returned from service in the Army in the Pacific, we lived at 219 Highland Ave in Ft Mitchell Ky. It's on a hill.

My bike was a gift from my maternal aunt Gertrude. Trudy was know for being "penny wise and pound foolish." In this case she bought me an upscale adult bike - a light, a horn, mud flaps, incredibly heavy but no gears. It was the same metaphor as the automobiles of the era - we won the war, big and heavy is good.

I was/am less than completely coordinated. So an adult held the bike while I was getting on. Then ran down the hill with me as the bike coasted faster and faster. If I stayed on the bike and pumped my feet, I was immediately faced with an uphill.

Or we could walk up the hill toward Gertrude's house at 115 and the flat part of the street. Neither the adults nor I were that ambitious that often.