I was visiting an old friend of mine in New Jersey. We both met when we were 4 years old. This past Christmas, he had suffered a heart attack. The doctors did not think he was going to make it. Fortunately, he did.
We had the chance to go down memory lane. Part of that trip was how we use to ride our bikes to places like the "little store" in Garwood, or through the endless roads in Fairview Cemetery by the Ghost Pond on Gallows Hill Road, or just into town to the Five and Ten for some kind of treasure.
I don't have many chances to go back to New Jersey, let alone my home town of Westfield.
It was there I had learned to ride my bike by the age of 5. Bikes were the essential way of getting around as a kid. As time passed, I road my bike all over town, where summers would fly by sailing on my Schwinn, never knowing what adventure would lie ahead.
This one is for you, Fred.