It was not a Schwinn Roadster as it was not a tricycle
I remember that every Friday after school we’d put all our hard-earned cash together and visited a bike shop where we purchased bike parts piece by piece. Determined to get that bike completed sooner, my brother Bernard and I would go house to house selling the cookies my mom baked. I was only six then and Bernard was eight, so I guess no one really had the heart to turn us down. In the end, with hard work and persistence we were able to put up the money we needed.Like I said, it was not a schwinn roadster as it was not a tricycle. It was a two-wheel adult bicycle my bigger brothers and I could share. It was a bit too big for me, actually; I believe I fell off that bike five times before I got it to the road. The experience, however, was memorable. I could feel myself soaring, like I was flying. For the first time I was physically free.
