My bike was white with squiggles of pink and purple paint all over, and it had purple handle bars. The seat (my favorite part) was hot pink with splayed spots of purple paint. To top it off and add a little coolness was a water bottle holder. I won it at a home show my parents dragged me to when I was eight. It was my first and only ten speed bike.

I remember so clearly the night my dad and I went to pick it up; I can almost feel the undigested food in my stomach from eating dinner so fast. It was a large warehouse that had an over powering smell of gasoline and fresh cut grass. When the man went back to get it I pictured him rolling out this beautiful bike. Instead I got a l

I recently gave my bike to my neighbor who’s ten. Every day I watch her ride the same bike I did through the same streets, till the same street lights come on. Watching her do this brought back a lot of memories. My bike was a huge part of my childhood and its something ill never forget.

I felt like I lived in the movies that summer. Everything was perfect, almost as if I was living the “American Dream:” Cook outs, long days of swimming, and of course riding my bike, at night we would have huge games of hide and seek. We had a secret spot behind an old church where we built jumps and ramps for our bikes. The days went by so fast. And before I knew it summer was over. After that summer everything slowly began to change. Two of the boys started Middle School, and they didn’t want to hang out with my sister and me any more. (I think it was the cootie stage or something.) It didn’t stop us though we rode our bikes more than ever that year.

Everyday after that was the same thing. As soon as the bu

Some topics in this essay:
, Middle School, Dream” Cook, street lights, till street lights, till street, bus dropped, purple paint,