My earliest memory of cycling is a vivid tapestry of excitement and trepidation. I was just a teenager, staring wide-eyed at my dad’s proud Atlas bicycle—its frame too tall, its pedals far out of reach—the spark of yearning to ride burned bright, though. We found a workaround: renting smaller bicycles for an hour at just 50 paise. My father or brother would run behind me, clutching the seat, cheering me on while reminding me to lean the handle toward the fall and keep my eyes on the road, not the pedals. Then came that heart-stopping moment when I glanced over my shoulder and realized I was alone, gliding on my power—just before the inevitable crash. But those falls gave way to exhilaration, and the seed of a new passion lay in that fleeting rush.
Conquering the “Scissor Style”
When I eventually graduated to a grown-up cycle, I discovered an ingenious trick: the “scissor style.” A kindly classmate taught me this method, letting me borrow his bicycle on lazy Sunday mornings. My father’s Atlas was long gone, and renting bikes was too expensive for daily practice, so this friend’s generosity was a godsend. Scissor style was a testament to youthful ingenuity: one hand gripping the frame’s top tube, the other on the handlebars, one leg threaded through the triangular frame so I could reach the pedals. After countless wobbles, dents, and twisted handlebars that required realignment by bracing the wheel between my knees, I finally found my balance. Looking back, I marvel at my friend’s patience and wonder if he truly knew the gift he was giving me: the freedom and thrill of mastering something that once felt impossible.
Riding into Responsibility
My father bought a slightly smaller, bright-red Hero bicycle in my late teens. My older brother became our family’s “delivery service,” ferrying groceries and household essentials. Soon, I took up the mantle. I still recall the biting chill of predawn rides to the milk distribution stall: the quiet streets, the clink of glass bottles, and the faint glow of distant streetlights. Back then, everything seemed precious—milk was rationed, propane cylinders were scarce, and rides to exchange them were routine. Loading a heavy propane tank onto the back carrier and securing it with nylon cables was a lesson in balance and patience. My bicycle and I became partners in the daily chores, forging a bond through shared struggles and unwavering reliability—even as rust eventually claimed its wheels and spokes. Letting go of that bike felt like bidding farewell to a dear friend, a piece of my childhood left behind when I departed for the United States.
Rediscovering Cycling in America
Decades later, I longed for two wheels again in a land more attuned to cars than cycles. I tried owning a bike once shortly after arriving, but cramped garage space and the absence of safe bike lanes snuffed out my enthusiasm. I ended up giving it away, disappointed. Then, a friend raved about a folding e-bike he rented in Austin. Intrigued by its clever design and the possibility of an assisted ride, I decided to take the plunge—spurred on by a corporate wellness program that covered part of the cost.
Whenever weather allows, I set my e-bike to the lowest power setting and cruise along sidewalks on a nine-mile round trip. Stretches of the trail brim with joggers, dog walkers, parents with strollers, and youngsters wobbling on starter bikes. It’s a medley of small-town life, punctuated by polite nods or oblivious headphone-wearers. Sometimes, I have to swerve onto grass or gravel when my bell goes unheard. And when I hit a steep incline, a gentle twist of the throttle blends electric help with my leg power—a perfect dance of man and machine. My city promises more dedicated bike lanes in the coming years, and the thought of carefree riding on safe roads keeps me hopeful.
The Unspoken Truth of Cycling
What is it about riding a bicycle that inspires us? Is it the flutter of adrenaline when we first push off and discover our balance? Or the serenity of cruising down a sunlit path with only the hum of tires on the pavement and the whisper of wind for the company? Maybe it’s the connection between us and our surroundings—the chance to honestly notice every contour in the road, the fresh air in our lungs, and the passersby we greet with a nod. In a world that often glorifies speed and convenience, a bicycle reminds us to cherish the journey: to feel every bump, appreciate every sunrise ride, and learn from each tumble and scuffed knee. That’s the magic of cycling: it keeps us grounded even as it gives us wings.
