Barry,

That was beautiful!

Linda

PS Just wondering-what town was that in NJ?

On Jun 30, 2009, at 2:50 PM, bbarry wrote:

     As I recall my Dad telling me when he first retrieved his '46 Schwinn from my Grandma in Brooklyn's basement, about how sixty years ago he would ride his thirteenth birthday and Bar Mitzvah present that cost $25. new in 1946 with the special order hand pinstriped tri color we just won WWII militaryish green/red/white paint job from Brighton Beach out along the lower Brooklyn coastline and back, I wish I remembered more of what he described beside that what was tranquil and not always so flat to ride on the weekends and after school wasn't the landfilled sprawl that is there now.
     My Dad definitely did ride that bike a lot.  I still have the original 52 tooth big ring with heavily italicized u shaped wear, and original front spring that's more sagged and fatigued than most could imagine a teenager in the forties putting on a bike.  One time after we had it home, he took a ride out and back on some local streets with me.  The town in north Jersey where I grew up was very hilly, some a bit steep, just nothing all that long.  Sure enough he zipped down the downhill our driveway exited onto and out far end of the street we lived on, then though somewhat overweight and not relaly in shape, cranking and hammering all his considerable strength up the hill, maybe a 7% grade on a 46 pound 52x21 geared bike, back to the house.
     It was on those four cross laced 36 spoke wheels that my Dad taught me how to true a wheel too, sometime back in about fifth grade.  Also about that oil hole on the New Departure coaster brake hub.  After moving out here and riding the bike as an adult, I first learned to carry a dropper bottle of oil with me when riding the bike.  First time down the back of Mt. Eden Road I heard the snarling yowl with smoky smelly scent coming from the rear wheel.  A few drops of heavy gear oil would cool it down and get the braking back, til next time at least.
     Somewhere in a box I have the front axle that broke on me, same way as one of the descriptions in the program describes, because it just wasn't strong enough to handle the loads of adults heaving ho side to side on the bars with springer kasqueenking sqwunk in rhythmic antique soundtrack as no modern bike could compose.
      After getting another axle, then a wheel bearing spider collapsed.  Solution was a Phil Wood 36 hole track hub laced onto a Mavic downhill rim.  Interestingly, the bends on the modern disc brake only Mavic rin nearly exactly match those that Schwinn has been using for eighty years.
     Dad's strong Brooklyn upbringing wouldn't approve, if he were still around, how tolerant I am of some of the crap I remain pacifist about in the cycling community, but he sure would approve of me taking his big old Schwinn where only bikes with gears are supposed to be able to go.
     Dad passed on from an incurable at the time from of brain tumors twenty years ago.  The yellow bracelet on the seatpost of his bike is one I get when meeting Lance Armstrong at the final San Francisco Grand Prix.
     I and Dad's bike will be out there at the Livestrong Challenge in a couple of weeks riding in his memory, and I won't just be riding the flat route, because as the tv programs shows, these bikes were born to ride like no other bikes ever made before or since can.

Anyone have their own growing up bike stories?

Barry