Posted on

Memories on two wheels…

Memories on two wheels…

Share

About a year-and-a-half ago, my family and I moved into a new house… well, not a “new” house, but new to us, although it was actually familiar to me, as it was just around the block from my childhood home, and the house my parents still live in to this day.

It was actually pretty cool to get back to my old stomping grounds, but we haven’t really done anything to get back to my roots or anything other than point out where soand- so used to live and such.

At least, not until the coronavirus hit, and we’ve been forced to create our own entertainment for the past couple of months.

Part of that has been taking our almost-daily walks. We’ve got a onemile loop around “Old Marion” that we take and that’s been our primary form of exercise these days.

Along the way, in addition to pointing out Old Mr.

So-and-So’s house again for the hundredth time, I’ve started mixing in tales of my childhood adventures, like the “secret” trail back behind one row of houses (that, of course, everyone knew about, I’m sure), my old girlfriend’s house, the set of duplexes that used to be a softball field, where there used to be big tree in the middle of the road on Barton Street (it is long gone now, sadly), and a number of other attractions.

But the other day, bored and restless, my daughter and I broke out our bicycles. They hadn’t been ridden since before the move, and I honestly wasn’t entirely sure they had even come with us. But they were there against the back wall of the shed, sort of rusty and dusty but all they needed was a little air in the tires and they were good to go… or at least as good to go as we were able to get them going in our out-of-shape conditions.

So, the two of us… after a little refresher course, lit out around the neighborhood. Immediately, I was cast back in time to 1980something, when my friends and I would pedal our way up and down these same streets, right around the same age as my daughter is now.

Yes, the memories of racing and popping wheelies and playing bike tag were all right there under the surface of my brain, just waiting for me to mount my trusty steed once again. Good times…

Ralph Hardin is the Editor of the Evening Times and the Marion Ledger. He lives in Marion with his wife and kids ( although two of those kids are grown now and by the time the next issue of the Ledger comes out, they will both have gotten married!

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

LAST NEWS
Scroll Up