I was stopped

in downtown by a police office last week. No, Mister Safety here wasn't

speeding. The officer halted my progress due to the annual bike race that

was in town for the day. I watched as bike rider after bike rider sped

silently in front of my truck.

Each rider

was dressed in padded biker shorts, and shirts. They wore aerodynamic

bike helmets, elbow and knee pads, and special bike shoes that clipped

onto the pedals so their feet will not slip off. All had water bottles

and two way radios in case they got thirsty or needed to call for help.

The bikes they

rode were state-of-the-art design with gel-padded seats and gel- padded

forearm rest. The forearm rest allowed the bikers to lean forward and

provided less wind resistance while they braked or changed the twenty

gears on the handle bars that curved under for safety. Both controls were

located easily within thumb reach. State-of-the-art bike design, aerodynamic

helmets, and padded riding shorts things sure have changed a lot in the

last forty years.

At age eight,

I finally got my freedom and was accepted as part of the cool group on

Flamingo Street. It was my birthday and Mom and Dad had just given me

the present to end all presents. There, in the driveway, stood a red and

white Stinger bicycle! It was just like the one I'd been telling them

I wanted. Guess the two months of bugging them didn't go to waste after

all. Ya know, sometimes moms and dads do get it right; that's if you bug

them long enough.

The Red Stinger

was street ready, complete with high chopper handle bars, peddle breaks,

metal front and rear fenders, a real kickstand, and a banana boat seat.

The only thing the factory didn't install were the sound effects; an over

sight on their part, I'm sure, but I could take care of that easy enough.

Bikes on Flamingo

Street didn't speed around silently. To remedy the situation, we clamped

wooden clothespins onto the forks that held the wheels. Then, depending

on the sound you wanted, a playing card would be clamped onto the end

of the clothespin and stuck in the line of the spokes. When the wheel

turned, the spokes would hit the playing card and make a sound. The faster

the wheel turned the louder the sound, and with no gears to change we

didn't speed around too fast. Lots of hills on Flamingo Street ya know.

Each bike had

its own distinctive sound, with no two alike. Some could be heard a half

a block away. Something I was sure thankful for when Down the Street Bully

Brad came around looking for me, which he did most everyday. Neighbor

Thomas used playing cards that made a tat-tat-tat sound as he rode by.

Goofy Steve used drinking straws he got from the school lunchroom. When

he rode by, we heard a sound like grasshoppers click-click-click. Down

the Street Bully Brad used pieces of metal beer cans that his dad had

cut up for him. We could hear him coming from Blabber Mouth Betsy's house,

halfway down Flamingo Street. When the peaces of metal rubbed against

the spokes, it made a zzzzz sound - like that of a swarm of angry bees

coming down the street.

I wanted a

sound no one else had so I headed for Twin Brother Mark's Tinker Toy box.

In it, I found six green plastic flags, about half the size of a playing

card. They had sent six extra flags in his set, and I was sure he would

not mind if I used them for The Red Stinger sound effects. No one else

would have the sound of my Red Stinger, 'cause no one else had a Tinker

Toy set with six extra green flags. Now, Twin Brother Mark didn't either.

With all six

flags attached to the spokes of The Red Stinger, down the street I rode

making a rat-a-rat-a-rat-a-rat sound. I turned heads were ever I rode

and was the envy of all; well, not Down the Street Bully Brad.

He just wanted

to catch me to beat me up. Did he ever catch me? Well, just how fast would

you peddle your Red Stinger bike if you were being chased by a swarm of

angry bees?

Alas, the days

of high chopper handle bars, peddle breaks, metal front and rear fenders,

real kick stands, and banana boat seats are long gone. But at least there

are some things from the past we can still treasury. The Wife was driving

the Mercedes to dinner when she backed out of the driveway and heard a

Rat-a-rat-a-rat-a-rat sound coming from all four wheels.

Startled, she

asked me what all the noise was. I smiled and told her that it was nothing

to worry about, but if she hears the sound of a swarm of angry bees coming

down the street to let me know.

[Rick Ryckeley

is employed by the Fayette County Department of Fire and Emergency Services.

He can be reached at [email protected].]