Schwinn Varsity Bicycle
I was never an avid bicyclist during my teenage years. I couldn’t seem to get my legs strong enough for the hard long rides like the big boys could do in cross country competition. But I did enjoy riding and feeling the freedom of the road beneath me. I could do the 20 or 40 mile rides but I seemed to tire easily.
Our family moved to Kansas when I was 13. I loved borrowing our next door neighbor’s bike to take rides downtown and see the neighborhoods. Growing up on a 360 acre farm a mile from my friend Paul Millsap, without a bike, restricted us like a tether. Moving into a real city began the biggest change in my life that I’ve ever had.
I started working in Reebles Grocery Store when I was 14 or 15 and began earning money for a bike I had my eye on. At $.90/hr it took a lot of part time work to earn $86 for a fancy bike, but that’s what I wanted and that’s what I did. Looking back over the years of owning cars and things, I don’t remember ever being as proud of something as I was that golden bike with golden tires.
It was a beauty. I wish I could remember the year but it was a 1960-1962 vintage Schwinn Varsity; gold; chrome fenders, a continental seat and gum rubber tires as gold as the bike. It had taped racing handlebars; 10 speed derailleur gears and built to run. It had a generator style headlamp for night riding. It was registered with the Motorized Vehicle Department, as required by Kansas law, and sported its own license plate.
I rode it everywhere. I would load it up with my fishing gear and head for the river after school. I would take joy rides downtown or throughout neighborhoods, exploring the streets and backroads. I used it to go to work. I even had a small paper route where I folded and delivered the “Daily Reminder” to an assigned area for $3/week. It was my companion when a car was not an option.
I wonder whatever happened to that “old friend”…..?
Sunday, February 27, 2011
Saturday, February 26, 2011
For a brief time in my teenage life, Dad rented an old farm from John Monkes outside a small town called Americus, Kansas. It was never much of a significant size. Why, back in the 60’s you could blink twice while driving through town and miss most of it. Even today it boasts nearly 900 people. We lived a few miles out but still within bike riding distance on a good day.
I loved that old farm. Mr. Monkes raised Alfalfa in the north field. We used to sit at the breakfast table and watch a lone Coyote bask out there in the early morning sunshine. We had fun exploring the old creek bed and throwing rocks into the pond. It was fun to sneak up to the old grass covered dam and watch a couple of Mud Ducks swimming around like no one else was there. Even though I hunted Rabbit and Squirrel, I never had the heart to shoot the ducks. I loved watching them swim.
I bought a Coyote call, a whistle that, when properly blown, one could call in wild Coyotes. It took me a while, but I learned how it worked. I had been rabbit hunting with our young Beagles. I shot a rabbit. I bent down to pick him up and he began to let out an awful cry. That was it! Immediately, I knew how to blow the Coyote call.
A good friend of ours, Charles Thornton, came out from Emporia one afternoon and we went down into the draw by the creek to see what we could call up.
We found a strategic place in the tall grass next to a barbed wire fence and a small bush to hide behind. We sat down in the grass and I began to blow the Coyote call like a pro. Soon we spotted a lone Coyote coming over a rise towards the West. He was on the other side of the wooded creek that meandered across the land like a serpent. We strained to see as he dropped out of sight in the trees. About that same time we heard a noise that startled us. We both whipped our heads around to see behind us. In the tall Johnson Grass, standing on his hind legs straining to find the source of the noisy call, stood a big, red Coyote not more than 25 or 30 feet away! Our movement was caught by his sharp eyesight and he immediately left the area. We never saw him again.
Charles and I looked at each other and grinned. That alone was worth the time to walk down here and blow this whistle! It was great! Another blow on the whistle and we looked intently down in to the draw to try to find the first Coyote. The sun had gone down and it was starting to get dark. We weren’t sure we would have enough daylight to spot another. Crouching lower into the grass I gave the whistle another blow.
All at once a large Owl, who apparently had his heart set on a Rabbit meal, dove down from the sky towards our position. Fortunately, he recognized the difference and took off into the skies. We could feel the air and hear the noise from his dive as he pulled up just inches from our heads.
The hair on the back of my neck raised and I was done. This was definitely an exciting evening of Coyote calling! We totally didn’t expect the Owl.
I will never forget that day.
I loved that old farm. Mr. Monkes raised Alfalfa in the north field. We used to sit at the breakfast table and watch a lone Coyote bask out there in the early morning sunshine. We had fun exploring the old creek bed and throwing rocks into the pond. It was fun to sneak up to the old grass covered dam and watch a couple of Mud Ducks swimming around like no one else was there. Even though I hunted Rabbit and Squirrel, I never had the heart to shoot the ducks. I loved watching them swim.
I bought a Coyote call, a whistle that, when properly blown, one could call in wild Coyotes. It took me a while, but I learned how it worked. I had been rabbit hunting with our young Beagles. I shot a rabbit. I bent down to pick him up and he began to let out an awful cry. That was it! Immediately, I knew how to blow the Coyote call.
A good friend of ours, Charles Thornton, came out from Emporia one afternoon and we went down into the draw by the creek to see what we could call up.
We found a strategic place in the tall grass next to a barbed wire fence and a small bush to hide behind. We sat down in the grass and I began to blow the Coyote call like a pro. Soon we spotted a lone Coyote coming over a rise towards the West. He was on the other side of the wooded creek that meandered across the land like a serpent. We strained to see as he dropped out of sight in the trees. About that same time we heard a noise that startled us. We both whipped our heads around to see behind us. In the tall Johnson Grass, standing on his hind legs straining to find the source of the noisy call, stood a big, red Coyote not more than 25 or 30 feet away! Our movement was caught by his sharp eyesight and he immediately left the area. We never saw him again.
Charles and I looked at each other and grinned. That alone was worth the time to walk down here and blow this whistle! It was great! Another blow on the whistle and we looked intently down in to the draw to try to find the first Coyote. The sun had gone down and it was starting to get dark. We weren’t sure we would have enough daylight to spot another. Crouching lower into the grass I gave the whistle another blow.
All at once a large Owl, who apparently had his heart set on a Rabbit meal, dove down from the sky towards our position. Fortunately, he recognized the difference and took off into the skies. We could feel the air and hear the noise from his dive as he pulled up just inches from our heads.
The hair on the back of my neck raised and I was done. This was definitely an exciting evening of Coyote calling! We totally didn’t expect the Owl.
I will never forget that day.
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