There Is Nothing Like Flying Over The Handlebars Of A Schwinn Poem by Ted Sheridan
There Is Nothing Like Flying Over The Handlebars Of A Schwinn
___I can remember when I was a boy
how much fun it was to throw dirt clogs
and play with wart frogs instead of girls
___It was okay for a boy to be a boy
to ride a Schwinn bike without a helmet
down the steepest hill in the neighborhood
with your feet up on the handlebars was cool
not anyone's idea of dangerous or irresponsible
___There were trees to climb instead of hug
___There were forts to defend with cap guns and boyish honor
___There was the liberty of being free to be a kid
with the occasional intrusion of spinach....broccoli...or a bath....
___ Life for me technically ended at age eleven........
2007 ©Ted Sheridan
I, as well, flew over the handlebars of my own 'pink' Schwinn, Ted. Great nostalgic piece!
Ah, Ted... I love this and sometimes feel very much the same (eleven: the end) ... I was the girl version of you, to the forts, horned toads, steep hill bike 'coasting', you name it - but I got to wear dresses on Sundays. And kiss boys! ; ] This is for me an all-time keeper. Thanks... Esther : ]
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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5/4/2024 7:40:24 AM # 1.0.0.1119
I also flew over handlebars, though I don't think it was a Schwinn...I wound up flying down a rocky bank. Thanks for that...ouch...memory! Hugs, Dee