Member-only story
That Time I Lost Sheila
A true childhood story about alien movies, a bike, and pain
It was the shiniest red ten-speed bike on the block and it was all mine. I knew that this bike and I would have a keen relationship when I saw that dad placed it adjacent to the Christmas Tree, it gleamed right under the bright morning sun.
That same day I named it Sheila because it whispered it’s name to me(don’t come for me, I’m a bike whisperer, okay!).
From then on it was Sheila and me.
Sheila and I at the grocery store.
Sheila and I riding up and down the sidewalks.
Sheila carrying me when I was pink and flaky with Calamine lotion because I had the chicken pox.
She rode smooth and during those crazy times when dad’s car was being worked on, I’d use Sheila to carry my sister while dad and I would hang our shopping bags on the handles of our bikes on those hot summer days.
One of the bags would have Whopper Jrs and fries in them, the hot greasy mayonnaise-y smell melds with nostalgia right about now.
Sheila was wonderful, but she had her wicked ways too.
One day, my cousin wanted to ride my bike and I specifically said no. But after a while I gave in. My younger cousin was…
