The Neighborhood Bike Gang

Like most young women, my biking career began on a bright pink and purple tricycle in the cul-de-sac above my house. When I was quite young, around three, I decided to ride down the steep winding Fish Creek Falls road on my tricycle. A lady in a minivan picked me up and drove me home explaining how dangerous it was to ride down that road. Once she arrived to my house, she scolded my mother for being so lackadaisical while I adventured out by myself. She explained in sharp words that I could have easily lost control and got hit by a car. My mother smiled and nodded as the woman scolded her, but knew in her heart that I was born to be an adventurer. She understood the risks of having a daughter like me, but came to the conclusion that I was going to ride down that hill by myself with or without her permission. And thus, the biking career began.

As I grew older, I was eventually introduced to the neighborhood bike gang. My brother and his friends were the bullies of the gang, and rode around the cul-de-sac like Hells Angels. My childhood friend, Brian, and I found refuge in the drainages on the sides of the roads. At first, we were just trying to escape my brother and his evil cronies, but then we realized the joy of riding through the water that flowed past our ankles. The children of my neighborhood would ride until they were beckoned by their families for dinner. Riding around the neighborhood became an afternoon tradition.

This morning, we biked 45 kilometers to a small Peruvian community, Checacupe, where we encountered the neighborhood bike gang. About 10 kids were riding around the main plaza of the town, quite similar to my cul-de-sac given the smallness of the town. They were playing the same bike games we played and had the same sibling bullies.

The bikes were a bit different. There were mountain bikes, old fixed gear bikes, cruisers, and bikes I would classify as only two wheels and a chain. The bikes were in bad condition but it did not matter to the kids. As long as the bikes moved forward as the kids pedaled, the laughter and fun continued.

The most wonderful image I saw was the smallest kid riding the largest bike. The little boy could not even reach the pedals if he sat on the seat properly, in fact he had to rotate his hips side to side in order to get enough length in the leg to reach the pedals.

Although we are far from home, and many things are different here in Peru, that bike gang brought me back to my childhood. I realized that kids all over the world get the same pleasure out of the simple things in life. Maybe one day, these kids will grow up to cycle around the world or maybe just continue to bike around their small village. Hopefully, their love of biking will continue to grow and will be an influence on their adult lives.


By: Rayna (Queen)