My Mother’s Bike

Portland is a bicyclist’s town.

Take my daughter, Wee-hey.

She bikes to work with the countless denizens who choose this method of transport. Wee-hey pedals my mother’s ancient bike from Sears.

I was about 8 years old when my step-dad bought mama her bike one Christmas, a black 3-speed from the Long Beach department store. She loved that bike.

On weekends we would ride our bikes through the track homes, a cluster of houses built with funds given to war veterans. My parents called them GI Bill houses.

We made quite a picture with a line of two adults and four kids—sometimes six when my step brother and sister joined us.

When we moved overseas my mother loaned her bike to my uncle, who had a passel of children, and where it would get good use. I reclaimed the bike when I returned to the US for college.

The bike now belongs to Wee-hey, some 50 years later.

She urges the bike forward with its one remaining gear, regardless of the little hills that force her to stand while biking.

She’s a true Portlander.


About Cynthia Coleman Emery

Professor and researcher at Portland State University who studies science communication, particularly issues that impact American Indians. Dr. Coleman is an enrolled citizen of the Osage Nation.
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1 Response to My Mother’s Bike

  1. txhsabullprobra1988 says:

    Reblogged this on Ashley King Weblog.


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