A Tricycle Riding Memory

The only memory I've of Mom's brother is one of him fixing my tricycle. He died months after I turned six & lived in a neighboring town to Grandma along with his family, so we didn't see him often. Even though we had tricycles back at Mom & Dad's house to ride around on, the only memories I've have actually doing so are the ones I've of riding along with our first cousins all along Grandma's long driveway. The photos we've in our family photo album, which Dad took (he's always been our family photographer) have helped keep these memories alive too.

We'd all gotten together for a family picnic; it was sometime in early or mid-July. We "picnicked" at Grandma's picnic table right in her backyard. She had a smile so wide that day; I've seen it so many times in those pictures Dad took. I feel like I remember the scene with my own eyes, as if I were matured ten more years than I'd been when the moment happened. She was so proud. She had every right to be. Here she had her children, along with their spouses, & all her grandchildren. This was her life's work; her legacy.

Our tricycles were equivalent to our generation & nothing so modern as these. Though the design was very similar to this bike, so it's likely that we were riding on the Radio Flyer brand back then. I remember there was a blue tricycle & a green tricycle at Grandma's house. I think it's the green one that I used. It was a "retro" green; not a bright & crisp Crayola green & the clumsily padded bike seat slumped at the back end where we were probably getting a good ab workout just keeping our hinnies hoisted up & not falling off the back & into the "standing space" where a thrill seeking sibling or cousin could step up & hold onto our shoulders for a short ride.

The bikes were likely gifted to Grandma by a neighbor or a nearby family friend. They probably had the bikes sitting in their garage from after their children had outgrown them. Knowing they should purge their items, they thought of Grandma & how us kids would stop by from out-of-town; the tricycles seemed meant for us.

I remember us kids pedaling around the top of the driveway, nearby the detached garage, which sat next to Grandma's backyard where the picnic table & grill were located. Something happened to the tricycle I was using, as if something had come loose. I got off & brought the bike over to the picnic table where all of the adults were standing & sitting. Mom's brother, my uncle, went into action checking out the bike. He must've had a wrench or a screwdriver already handy cause he seemed to take just a quick moment & suddenly was handing me back the bike. As in, he was setting it down from off the edge of the picnic table onto the ground right in front of me. I hopped on & rejoined the rest of my generation pedaling away in the driveway.

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