I'm from Strongsville, Ohio. Late 1964, my family returned from Sao Paulo, Brazil. A two-year contract my father made with USAID.
I was 12. I premise my time stamp in history to set background. My father along with my grandmother takes me to a bicycle shop. There it sat, a minibike. 3 hp Briggs, can't remember brand. I fell head over heels. I recall grandmother telling my father, oh, get it for the boy! That's how it all started. I met two kids on the school bus in 7th grade, soon after. BTW we are still alive and no longer friends, we are brothers.
Interstate I71 was being built in my back yard as seen in the tiny pic of a community cropped from the larger shot from a newspaper photo, to which I have a copy. The woods at the end of my street was/is owned by the metro park system. We blazed trails to each other's houses. We were also in trouble with police for riding on the yet opened highway the winter before opening. We stole beer and cigarettes from our parents and consumed in the woods at secret places. One day we set out to ride the highway. Full out speed, two minibikes, one with a rider, blazing through virgin snow, frozen faces & hands then getting off the closed exit, just to be met by a cop. No charges, just mom loading our bikes into her 1965 Ford wagon.
A little ass chewing and that was it.
Today, my old neighborhood is still there. The trails are now bike paths. Strongsville is no longer small. I travel home every couple of months to see my brothers. The minibike project I write about will be taken to one of my brothers' homes and ridden on his 10 acres. Only the readers of my post will know about the 70-year-old "kids" , who may have beer on their breath like the old days, will ride the minibike once again.
