Hello, folks. I so enjoy meandering through the many articles you have, and today I particularly enjoyed the lighthearted and sweet stories of the behavior of children: the ring bear and the little boy who prayed for a new bicycle.

I'm not expecting you to print the story about my old bicycle, but I just want to share it because I think the things that affect us in childhood stay with us all our lives. I was a sickly child and couldn't play outside very much without having a terrible bouts with asthma. Through many years of shots and medication I finally outgrew all evidence of this awful disease, but it left me permanently weakened in that I tire very easily if I overdo. This sort of existence is very lonely for an only child, but I had my dolls and make-believe friends and storybooks to keep me company on the many days I couldn't go to school.

By the time I was ten years old I really, really wanted a bicycle. My parents wondered if this were a good idea considering my health, but the real issue was that we simply didn't have the money for extras. But the topic of a bicycle for me was discussed quietly when they thought I was asleep. As I listened at the living room door, I heard my parents and grandparents discussing the problem of buying a bicycle, and my grandfather said he would do a paint contracting job for a man he knew who owned a bicycle shop.

So they made a trade, and I was told that on my tenth birthday I'd get the new bike. I remember sitting on the front steps watching the road near our house, and soon I saw a black pickup truck coming up the road and there was a bicycle in the back! I was overjoyed and rode up and down our road the rest of that day while my family looked on and smiled. Neighborhood children came out for a look, and I let them have rides on my new treasure.

I rode that bicycle for most of my life until it finally ended up in our basement when it became almost impossible to find parts and large tires. I sometimes regret that I gave the bicycle away once I was into middle age, and every once in a while when I climb onto my new and lighter weight bicycle to go off on an errand I think of my old bike and the fun I had with it. It brings home the point to me that so often we lose the childish joy over little things as we get older, and we certainly lose an appreciation of simple pleasures. I feel like Steve does when he wants to go back to Dinky Land and play cars with the other kids. I wish I could go back and play with the neighborhood kids on my old green bicycle. - Jan L.