Schwinn Stringray Back to Timeline
The first bike of my own.
Riding on two wheels is something I've enjoyed all through my life, from the first right through to the present time. It compares favorably with all the best experiences. The feeling of balance, movement, momentum, wind, effort, road-buzz, and freewheeling. All of it.
A bike of my own was and remains a great, great satisfaction.
From the start, I thought a lot about my bike and, cued by the flamboyant world of 1970's New York, thought long and hard of how best to customize my ride. There are no photos at hand of that memorable first two-wheeler, but it was not the top-end souped up model, definitely not the chopper that I intended it to become. I dreamed of getting a banana seat (which I did, thanks Dad!), bar end streamers (which I made from old junk in the basement), sissy bar, front shock, and big bend handlebar. I remember browsing the Sears catalog fairly often and looking forward to the day I could order the essential accessories. The day never came, alas, due to a series of events that ended rather poorly. Moving to France, lack of cash in the permanently slumped economy of the under 10 year old, and the reputedly miserable French postal system cast doubt over my hopes and plans. Unsurprisingly, my French allowance, a 5 franc coin each Friday, was inevitably spent on pains au chocolat and firecrackers before it even hit the bottom of my pocket. The Sears catalog had been left in New York, thrown into the trash, probably with a big rat on it. And then moving to the Netherlands, the dream came crashing down. Sinterklass ripped off my Stingray from outside our house. (I will never be persuaded it was Zwarte Piet who did his dirty work.)
Despite the outcome, my Stingray was the machine of my earliest cycling adventures and the object of my budding inclination to customize my ride, a primal act of creative and personal expression.
A bike has to be just right. I knew that in my bones. I've always known that.
Fate: stolen by Sinterklass
The first bike of my own.
Riding on two wheels is something I've enjoyed all through my life, from the first right through to the present time. It compares favorably with all the best experiences. The feeling of balance, movement, momentum, wind, effort, road-buzz, and freewheeling. All of it.
A bike of my own was and remains a great, great satisfaction.
From the start, I thought a lot about my bike and, cued by the flamboyant world of 1970's New York, thought long and hard of how best to customize my ride. There are no photos at hand of that memorable first two-wheeler, but it was not the top-end souped up model, definitely not the chopper that I intended it to become. I dreamed of getting a banana seat (which I did, thanks Dad!), bar end streamers (which I made from old junk in the basement), sissy bar, front shock, and big bend handlebar. I remember browsing the Sears catalog fairly often and looking forward to the day I could order the essential accessories. The day never came, alas, due to a series of events that ended rather poorly. Moving to France, lack of cash in the permanently slumped economy of the under 10 year old, and the reputedly miserable French postal system cast doubt over my hopes and plans. Unsurprisingly, my French allowance, a 5 franc coin each Friday, was inevitably spent on pains au chocolat and firecrackers before it even hit the bottom of my pocket. The Sears catalog had been left in New York, thrown into the trash, probably with a big rat on it. And then moving to the Netherlands, the dream came crashing down. Sinterklass ripped off my Stingray from outside our house. (I will never be persuaded it was Zwarte Piet who did his dirty work.)
Despite the outcome, my Stingray was the machine of my earliest cycling adventures and the object of my budding inclination to customize my ride, a primal act of creative and personal expression.
A bike has to be just right. I knew that in my bones. I've always known that.
Fate: stolen by Sinterklass
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| This beaut shows what I dreamed of doing with my Stingray. Behold the headlamp, to boot. Some lucky kid realized his/her dream...or maybe mine. My Stingray was the stripped down model. Mine did have the heavy duty "motocross" rear tire. Heavy duty is cool. Photo credit: http://schwinnstingray.net/gallery/index.php |
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