They wisely pointed out that the depression era budget could not be expanded to include such a vehicle and that I must save enough to purchase my own bicycle. Although this was not an unreasonable suggestion, where does a pre-teen find a job in order to purchase a bike?

To be totally truthful, Dad said that I could use my older sister’s bike until I had enough saved for my own. What red-blooded American boy would be seen in public riding a girl’s bicycle? Sometimes after dark I would practice riding her bike in our driveway, out of view from the street, but never where I felt I could be seen. An occasional job of distributing circulars for local merchants would produce a couple of dimes but I never made any appreciable progress towards the bicycle purchase price.

Then a wonderful thing happened in 1938, shortly after my 12th birthday. My Dad took a new job with Montgomery Ward in Maryville, Mo. and a few months after we moved there, a graduating high school senior, Dick Mowery who lived across the street asked me if I would like to take over his Maryville Daily Forum paper route for our neighborhood. VOILA! The potential bicycle purchase came into view.

The paper route produced a net profit of about $4.00 per week and I would take a major share of my earnings and place it in a glass jar marked “bike” after each collection round. In the meantime I would make frequent trips to the bicycle department in Montgomery Ward’s basement. I spotted the perfect bike, a black and orange model, and had the clerk figure the exact amount--list price less the Ward’s employee discount plus the Missouri sales tax. With this amount in mind, I would frequently count the funds available in the glass jar as well as regular visits to the store to make sure someone else had not beat me to the purchase.

It wasn’t long until I reached the necessary purchase price of $22.95, so I gathered up my jar and headed for Montgomery Ward. Dale Cockayne, the clerk in the department was not surprised to see me coming and I counted out the exact amount of money--mostly in quarters, dimes, nickels and pennies--into his hand. I was surprised that he called in several of the nearby clerks to witness this transaction. You would have thought I had done something unusual! (I still have that sales receipt,) I proudly rode my bike homeward by a rather circuitous route hoping some of my buddies might see me on my new possession.

That new bicycle became my favorite mode of transportation for much of the next three years. I would ride it to and from school, actually to a half block from school. Frazee’s Neighborhood Grocer Store had built a series of bicycle racks adjacent to their store and everyone could park there for free! (This was a great merchandising plan for the store as it meant frequent sales of snacks before and after school, including yours truly.)

I gave up the regular bike riding when I was a sophomore in high school. Some of my football squad members teased me about this childish habit so “good old black and orange” was relegated to our family garage. As much as I liked the bike, I don’t remember what finally happened to it. I suspect that my parents gave it away when I was in the Army, but those great memories of my first bicycle still exist.

Bill Hooper

St. Joseph