1987 - all tied up

i knew when my parents ushered me out of the house to go play with the neighbors something was up. it was my birthday, after all. my sixth. as i ran across the backyard and through the open gate in the wood fence {that was always open, by the way}, i wished with all my heart that they had ushered me out so they could put together a brand new bike. 

a few hours later, amidst ice cream, cake and a rousing rendition of the happy birthday song, that beauty i'd only seen in my drams was wheeled into my view. it was pink and purple, a huffy, and it had its own little fanny pack hanging off the handlebars. 

it. was. perfect. 

i don't actually remember learning to ride my bike. there might have been training wheels, but i can't be certain. i do remember riding it up and down 1460 west for hours on end. 

one of the greatest aspects of having my own bike was being able to ride it all the way down the street, through the trailer park and across the crosswalk on 70th south to my very own heartland elementary {go huskies!}. i felt so grown up, trailing my brothers down the pavement and locking up my very own two wheels in the chain-link bike cage. my mom would wait at the front door each morning as we rode away, waiting to go inside until we were out of view. 

one morning, as i sprinted down the driveway, trying my best to keep up with my brothers, it suddenly became extremely hard - and eventually impossible - to pedal. i looked down at the gears and realized the shoelace from my white, high-top LA Gears {with fuchsia and fluorescent green faux leather twisted up the side} was wrapped and tangled in a ridiculous mess around the pedal.

i  yelled to my mom who was patiently waiting on the front porch. she, thinking i had a flat tire, bellowed back to hop off and catch up with some neighbors who had just passed by. we went back and forth in this confused state for a bit before i was able to accurately explain my dilemma. i couldn't hop off because i was attached! {and really, what's the point of wearing stirruped stretch pants, an oversized shirt with a shirt belt and three pair of alternately folded socks if you're not going to finish it off with high top LA Gears?}

my mom helped me get out of my high tops and into an alternate pair of much-less-cool shoes and i sprinted down the street while she rolled my bike back home for some untangling. 

sadly, this shoelace skirmish is one of my only memories of my pink and purple huffy. the bikes at our house were kept in the garage, lined up against the right wall in front of the garbage can and next to the honda accord. depending on who you ask, you'll get a different tale, but i'm certain i did put my bike away and didn't leave it lying on the ground half under the car that night. i'm also certain it slid down without anyone knowing and met its demise the following morning when my mom backed out of the garage. 

it was only six months old. 

{i know the quality is awesome, 

but beggars can't be choosers when it's one of two 

pictures ever taken of me and my bike}

the frame was bent and the front wheel crunched beyond repair. so, we planned to get a new {pink} wheel and fix the frame asap. 

but, here we are 24 years later and that pink and purple huffy is the only bike this girl has ever owned. maybe next year...

also in 1987:

{kindergarten}

 {halloween with the shaws}

 {a rare moment of adoration from dan} 

{christmas eve}