When I was a little bit younger, than I am now {wink}, I would ride my bicycle for miles and miles. Of course when I say "I", I mean us my siblings, friends and I...but this memory is mine and they just happen to appear in it. Sorta
During the days of summer I would ride through the neighborhood to get to a certain bridge. The bridge was really meant for walking over, but everyone rode their bikes on it too. What did the bridge cross? Well it crossed a deep and wide ravine, that the local bayou would flood into during super heavy rains and it would quickly subside into a mud hole. Now once I had crossed the bridge or rode down through the ravine, I would take to the common trails. I would ride over the hills just as fast as I could peddle. It was always a race at the hills...who could get up them the fastest, who could go down the fastest. Oh and if by some freak chance no one else was there all the more I would get to ride the hills without sharing.
Sometimes I would just go riding through the woods ending up at Lakewood Elementary, Brock Park, under the road bridges at Tidwell or even on Green River Dr. The mud was so gooey it would mound up on the bike tires so thick I couldn't peddle anymore and would have to stop and scrape the tires with a stick.
Man those were the days; flying free no worries, except to be home by supper time. Hence the quote by my Mom (probably everyone else's mom too) "Be home for supper!" Now these days, this week to be exact, has been a bit hectic. So very busy that I wasn't sure I would be able to even do a journal page, but I worked on it as I could and being busy explains why I don't have my usual progress recorded in photographs.
So without further ado and him-hawing here is the completed page.
Special note: the bridge folds out and a short poem is written on the back
I'll be around to see your pages soon or sooner. If you haven't done one...I dare, no I double dog dare you to join in.
2 comments:
brings back memories of that BIG ZING we'd get as the air would go whipping by and our cheeks would flap in the wind.
Oh yes, I remember those days! The street lights coming on was the signal for us to get home. And the mud! Ugh - haven't thought of using sticks to clean our shoes and wheels in years! Awesome page and a terrific set of memories - thanks so much for playing along with my challenge!
~ky
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