Excerpt

All afternoon and early evening I thought about owning that bicycle. In my minds eye I could see those old dented, wired on fenders replaced with new ones that I would order from the Montgomery Ward catalog. I would paint them a royal blue color and then put a white trim on the fenders like I had seen on the new bikes in a bicycle shop in a nearby town. Yes, I would take the hub apart and buy a set of disc for it and repair the braking problem. Indeed, that old bike would soon look and run like a new one. But, first of all, I had to own it!

We lived on a small farm and money was never in abundance. Sometimes, during the spring and summer, my dad would work a few days doing road maintenance and the money earned would help to buy the necessities needed by a family of four children and two adults. The work was seasonal and couldnt be depended on ---I knew that getting nine dollars from my dad would not be easy. I remember spending a considerable amount of time thinking about a strategy I could use that would be most effective. Yes, I would promise to pay it back, Id do extra work, maybe even promise not to tease my sisters so much ---but, I finally decided Id use just a straight-forward approach. I would tell him about the bicycle and let him know how much I wanted it and hope he would come through!

That evening about 6:00 oclock when he came home I met him at the gate. I told him about the bicycle and that my friend, Billy, had allowed me to ride it most of the afternoon and that I really wanted it! Besides, I said, Billy only wants nine dollars for it.

He looked at me and simply said, I dont have nine dollars that I can give you. Of course, I was expecting an answer like that --- and even as a 12 year old I knew it was true. But still, the desire for that bike was a lot stronger than my acceptance of the economics that prompted my dads response. Before going to bed that night I made a couple more attempts at persuading him to change his mind even in front of my mother. The answer was always the same, I dont have nine dollars that I can give you. No anger or hint of disgust in his voice, just a matter of fact statement.

I got up early the next morning when dad did. At the breakfast table, in what I knew would be my last attempt, I again made my plea for the nine dollars. This time there was no answer --- he just continued eating his breakfast. I finished eating my breakfast, got up and walked to the door realizing that I wouldnt be riding my own bicycle this day! In a moment or so he got up from the table, walked over to the kitchen stove, picked up his lunch box that was on the edge of it, and walked toward the door where I was standing. When he was along side of where I stood, he reached out with his left hand and nudged my right hand ---in his palm he had a small roll of bills that he placed in my hand. He didnt say a word just kept on walking across the porch, down the steps, through the gate and down the road to where he would be working that day. I quickly counted those bills ---there were nine! Within minutes I was walking running down the dusty, dirt road that led to my friends house. The transaction with Billy was a quick one. I was soon home with my bike!

That evening my dad sat on the front porch watching me ride my bicycle up and down the road in front of our house. He didnt say anythinghe just smiled. During that summer I hoed a lot of corn for my grandfather at ten cents a row, and spent every penny fixing up that bike ---yes, new fenders, tires, a luggage carrier, saddle bags, hand grips, paint, and I soon learned how to take that New Departure rear hub apart and replace the parts needed to ensure that the brakes worked. It did look and ride like a new bike!

As a boy that was the only bicycle I ever owned. I kept it for four years and near the end of my senior year in high school I asked dad if he would take me to a nearby town where I would try selling it to a hardware dealer who bought used bikes. He said he would and I loaded the bike into the trunk of our car. The store owner offered me twelve dollars. I accepted. I guess we were both satisfied with the deal.

My dad has been gone for many, many years. In fact, Im now within a few years of his age when he passed away. And, Im haunted by the simple fact that I dont believe I ever thanked him for the sacrifice he made just to make a twelve year old boy happy! The nine dollars given to me that morning was probably all the money he had. But, Id like to believe that the smile he had on his face as he sat on the front porch watching me ride my bike up and down the road the first evening I owned it ---indicated that he understood the gratitude I felt. Ive learned, too, as a father and grandfather, that when you do things for people you love, you dont do them just to receive a vocal, thank you. Anyway, Dad, heres a belated, very sincere, Thank you, for buying me that bicycle.