Morris wasn’t pleased with the bicycle instructor that had been assigned to him. He was more OK with the idea that it was a skeleton than the fact it was an “it”. How was he supposed to address it – Mr.? Mrs.? Ms.? Then he started to wonder why women got a different title when they got married, but men stayed the same. But he didn’t have time to wonder very long about that. 

He needed to know the correct title so he would seem like an appreciative student. He looked again at his assignment slip – Terry Hasenmiller. No help there – that first name could go either way. He decided to settle on “Teacher” as a safe bet.

After the preliminary instructions when it was determined that Morris wasn’t a complete beginner at cycling, the instructor decided to go over all the tips and tricks on how to maintain a bicycle. “As my teacher always says ‘if you take care of your tools, they’ll take care of you’.”

Bicycles weren’t for exercise in those days. They were a necessity in a culture that seemed to be going faster and faster. A bicycle (never a “bike” according to Terry) was what made it possible to get a job or an education other than just from what was around you. The bicycle was the great weapon against mediocrity and even poverty. With a bicycle you could pedal your way out of whatever you’d been born into and make for yourself a better future. You were no longer limited by your circumstances – you could rise above.

This attitude is why Terry was still alive – in spite of being a skeleton. Terry didn’t let something as common as death put an end to a good life. Terry hadn’t always taught people how to ride a bicycle, but it made sense now. If it weren’t for the bicycle, Terry would never have known there was a different life, ready for the taking, just on down the road. If it weren’t for the bicycle, Terry would probably be just like everyone else in that town – poor and content with a sixth-grade education.

(Written around 3/30/19)