I never received a bike for Christmas.
That’s probably just as well. As a kid I lived w here we had Winter. I mean honest to goodness, freezing yer britches off, snow and sleet, howling winter. It would have been torture to have a new shiny bike, and not be able to ride it. (In those days I had no idea how to ride in the Winter.)
Over the years, I have given several Christmas Bikes. Each and every one of them brought me tremendous joy. I got to see the delighted smiles, and the hyperventilation that went along with receiving those bikes. I watched them being used, both on that day, and after. It’s been gratifying.
I’ve also given several Christmas Bikes to folks who never saw me, or knew me. Those were special too. I never knew what became of them. I picture them in my mind’s eye. Did that kid shout with glee? Where his parents made happy by that gift? I hope so.
One of the absolute best goes back to a time when I was a lot younger. My friends and I were going through some pretty tough times, and money was scarce. We knew of a family in town who needed a lot more than we did.
We pooled resources. Then we organized. We hit a couple of stores up for donations. We did a lot of very careful shopping. A couple of our ladies got busy in the kitchens, baking and cooking. Breads, meat loaf, a huge bucket of spaghetti, pies, almost a month’s food of one type or another emerged.
We found the bike. It wasn’t much. I took it apart and started the cleaning process. One of the group sanded the frame and painted it. Several of us worked at replacing parts and getting it all working well.
Christmas Eve came. We gathered food and packages. We waited until around ten o’clock at night. We drove to within a block of the house and stopped. We went the rest of the way on cat feet. We put the bike, adorned with a big red bow, the other presents, and the food packages, on the porch. We rang the bell and ran.
I hope that those people had half as much joy from that as we did.
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