Can you remember your very first cycling experience?

My very first memories as a child were when my parents moved to Brooklyn from Greenwich Village in 1974 and I was 2 years old. My dad installed a child bike seat on the back of his 3-speed army green Raleigh Sprite and it was time to test it out. We left our brownstone rental in Cobble Hill and went out for my first bike adventure, crossing the great East River Bridge a.k.a. the Brooklyn Bridge. At the time, the bridge wasn’t the huge tourist attraction it is today, and even on a weekend, pedestrian traffic was minimal. We kind of had the place to ourselves. In addition, the infrastructure in NYC in the 1970s wasn’t “up to snuff’ and the bridge had fallen in slight disrepair. Biking across the bridge wasn’t a big thing at the time and there were stairs up to the pedestrian walkway and no bike ramps or gradual transitions to the caissons as there are today. I remember my dad carrying his bike and me (still in the child's seat) up and down the stairs during the passage across the bridge. The wooden slats that made up the walkway were extremely loose and some even missing. I remember distinctly the sound of the slats moving in rhythm as my dad’s tires rolled across them. The most thrilling part of the adventure was the slight terror and excitement of looking down between the large gaps in the slats and seeing the river far below. Bike helmets weren’t a thing back then and my dad’s wavy hair moved in the wind, more so when he was rolling faster on the descent on the Manhattan side of the bridge. The bridge crossing was the highlight of the adventure and I am not entirely sure where we ended up in Manhattan.

I don’t have any other memories as clear from this age either before or after for at least 2 years. This adventure remains ingrained in my brain very clearly. It’s incredible how indelible memories from childhood can impact life’s decisions. Becoming an avid cyclist as a teenager and adventuring across multiple bridges in NYC in the 1980s and later on, buying and running a bike store not far from one of the bridges I often crossed in my solo adventures. People often ask me how I got into bikes and I know the precise moment when it happened; Looking down between the slats of the Brooklyn Bridge hundreds of feet above the river, behind my father who I am sure was smiling and sharing the moment with his son and his bike.

For William J Grinker 5/28/1935 - 7/1/2023