New Bike

My old second-hand bike started to fall apart when I was eleven or twelve years old. It had been bought for me, when I was eight or nine, from a mom and son who were returning to Finland after the father of the family had been killed during the construction of the Sea-to-Sky highway. But now it had many miles on it and the climb back to the top of Coquitlam from down on the Fraser, was causing the pedal cranks to break off.

There was a bike shop in New Westminster, next to Nixon's Books and across the street from the old red brick Court House, where Dad took me one day. It must have been one of those extremely satisfying father moments, to go into a shop of new bikes with the intention of buying. I think Dad had cased the place out before because when I went to an unassuming plain bike that I thought we could afford, he kept on walking down the row to an eye-poppingly beautiful bike. A Raleigh. A deep, cherry red in colour with the Raleigh dragon logo in brass on the front head tube. Three-speed. With lights, and the dynamo was built right into the front wheel hub. And it had red and white streamers from the handle bars. 

The Raleigh Sports Light Roadster had a magnificent leather saddle but I had seen a seat like that on Lovett's bike and his had broken into an almost unsitable u-shape so I asked for a different style of seat. And so it was. I remember the bike costing $85.00. Eighty-five dollars! More than a week's wages. Average wages in 1956 were $1.66 per hour. Mom made $.75 an hour cleaning houses. You could still fill the tank of the car for $2.00 then.

I still remember coming home with the bike and Mom giving Dad that "You paid how much?" look. I, of course, didn't pay any attention to that look then but it is a look that only adults understand. Married adults. I just rode off to show the bike around the neighbourhood. A sweet moment.

I think Dad understood bikes and their necessity for kids better than most dads. He had started making a living, and bringing money home to his mom, with a bike when he was thirteen. Dad had gotten a job delivering for a clothing store and the owner first lent him a bike belonging to the son. I suppose after Dad showed that he was going to stick around, the owner floated a loan so Dad got his own.

The Raleigh was the best bike in the neighbourhood at the time as the rest were a motley collection of big, heavy bikes used for paper deliveries and left-over road bikes with turned-under handlebars that sometimes got turned up the other way. It had a black saddlebag on the back of the seat that was big enough to carry a lunch in so we were gone all day on adventures when school wasn't in session. It also had a long-shackled combination lock that was kept under the seat as well.

During the first summer with the Raleigh, in an evil moment at Blue Mountain Park pool, I forgot to lock the bike. I couldn't believe my eyes when I was done swimming and my bike wasn't there. The bikes were all leaned against the chain-link fence surrounding the pool and I must have walked up and down the line half a dozen times to make sure but it was gone. In those days a person had to purchase a bicycle license from the RCMP. It was only a sticker that was put on the lower tube of the frame but at least the cops had a record of the serial number. I was tall for my age and when we were reporting the theft, the cop at the counter did a recruiting pitch.

In what was pretty fast police work, the bike was found at the end of Rochester Avenue right about where the Skytrain passes over North Road today. I think there is a strip mall there now. The bike wasn't trashed very badly except the lens on the front light was broken for which Dad just cut a circle of glass from a spare pane that was around. The combination lock was hanging accusingly under the seat.

That Raleigh bike got a lot more miles onto it until I got my driver's license and then it was sidelined. I don't remember ever riding it again or what happened to it. Mom may have given it away, like a lot of my things, when I moved away from home. That Raleigh would be a sweet machine today.