Family Questions Trike Rider’s Sanity

PROTECTED CONTENT

If you’re a current subscriber, log in below. If you would like to subscribe, please click the subscribe tab above.

Username

Password

Login

Lost your password?

Username and Password Help

Please enter your email and we will send you a password reset link.

Email

Submit

← Back

I think there was a family meeting by the end of the day Sunday to discuss my sanity. My step-son recently purchased a 1978 Honda 70 three-wheeler and I enjoyed riding it during the gathering. I zipped through the yard when they were hiding eggs and I chased the girls around the yard when they were done finding eggs. I was just having too much fun and looked plumb silly on the tiny trike.

Ultimately they decided that I was reliving my youth after I explained I was deprived of a three-wheeler as a kid. I can’t argue that it was not a wise decision, everybody knows that it is only a matter of time riding a three-wheeler before it rode you. The three-wheelers were so tipsy that the major manufacturers voluntarily decided to stop production, with the last models rolling off the assembly lines in 1987. By that time four-wheelers were gaining popularity and were much more stable.

But for me, as a youngster, my primary transportation didn’t have three or four wheels. Instead it was a two-wheeler, meaning the kind you pedal and I traveled many miles in my hometown of Batesville on a bike. I rode to school some days, I rode to the ballpark, I rode to the swimming pool and I rode downtown to Fred’s and other stores to buy candy or baseball cards.

Looking back, I wouldn’t take anything for those miles and besides, very few of my friends had any kind of motorized transportation. I also remember some bicycle crashes that would rival any three-wheeler mishap. I haven’t told this story very many times, but one of hardest crashes came when I was around 11 or 12 years-old. I was a couple of streets over from the house when I heard the familiar song from an ice cream truck and I raced home to get a few bucks to purchase a treat. The bike was taller than me and I was pedaling hard.

For some reason that I can’t recall now, I had a machete in a sheath on my belt. Somehow the machete swung around and lodged in the front spokes and the bike came to an abrupt stop. I sailed over the handlebars and hit the pavement face-first, chipping both of my front teeth along with other cuts, bruises and scratches.

I don’t remember many more details from that crash except the chipped teeth that have required periodic dental work since. I also remember my dad getting mad. He probably wanted to strangle me for doing something so dumb – I mean who rides around on a bicycle with a machete on their belt?

Thankfully I was bleeding and squalling, so the next best thing he could think of was to check the ice cream truck’s credentials. He called the City of Batesville. Officers checked the truck, determined the operator did not have a permit to peddle in Batesville and made him leave. It was a small victory – that truck could not terrorize other kids in the neighborhood – but I was still in pain.

The bike riding ended abruptly when I turned 15 and got my driver’s license. In fact, I can probably count the number of times on one hand that I have rode a bike as I have no interest in revisiting my younger days of pedaling.

But three-wheelers, that is another story. My step-son has a knack for barn finds and he has accumulated a nice collection of old Hondas. He has a Big Red, the little 70, a Honda 100 dirt bike and a Honda four-wheeler.
I think I may buy one if I ever run across a good deal! It will be a good investment, everybody knows three-wheelers are going up in value.