When I was in my early teens back around 1965 I scored a brand new Schwinn Stingray. I saved my money and bought a 20” lime green metallic bike. It had a wide rear slick tire with raised white lettering. The banana seat was not a first generation style. It had a long sloping seat with a chrome grab rail around the rear. The upholstery was slick, not pleated and the covering was a glossy clear-white metal flake vinyl. It had bobbed chrome fenders and no springer front end.
I loved the bike but it kicked my butt trying to keep up with my older brother who rode a 26” bike. I must have grown tired of it.
Unfortunately when we are young we do stupid things. My Grampa talked me into a straight trade for his 26” red with white trim Sears Roebuck bike. I never bonded with that bike and immediately kicked myself for letting my Stingray get away.
To make matters worse, my dad said he thought Grampa took advantage of me. Oh well. Life goes on. I actually had a great family. Crazy, but interesting and great.
I learned another hard lesson at 18 over a decision to buy a 1966 BSA Hornet motorcycle. My dad had tried to explain to me that a car was more practical. I bought the bike for the same price as I could have had a decent used car like a late 50’s to early 60’s model of most American brands.
The bike was such a lemon, that it lasted a month before it quit. The only mechanic I knew worked on BSA’s recognized the bike when I rolled it into the shop. “Oh, so **you** own this bike now!”
I told my dad to sell it when I left to go back to college. I lost a little money but learned that some times you make a good deal and sometimes you don’t. My dad ***NEVER*** said “I told you so”. He said years later when I thanked him for his sensitivity to my feelings of anger and self loathing. He said, “we all make mistakes. It wasn’t helpful to say anything.”
(the photo is one I pulled off the web but looks like mine without fenders)
I loved the bike but it kicked my butt trying to keep up with my older brother who rode a 26” bike. I must have grown tired of it.
Unfortunately when we are young we do stupid things. My Grampa talked me into a straight trade for his 26” red with white trim Sears Roebuck bike. I never bonded with that bike and immediately kicked myself for letting my Stingray get away.
To make matters worse, my dad said he thought Grampa took advantage of me. Oh well. Life goes on. I actually had a great family. Crazy, but interesting and great.
I learned another hard lesson at 18 over a decision to buy a 1966 BSA Hornet motorcycle. My dad had tried to explain to me that a car was more practical. I bought the bike for the same price as I could have had a decent used car like a late 50’s to early 60’s model of most American brands.
The bike was such a lemon, that it lasted a month before it quit. The only mechanic I knew worked on BSA’s recognized the bike when I rolled it into the shop. “Oh, so **you** own this bike now!”
I told my dad to sell it when I left to go back to college. I lost a little money but learned that some times you make a good deal and sometimes you don’t. My dad ***NEVER*** said “I told you so”. He said years later when I thanked him for his sensitivity to my feelings of anger and self loathing. He said, “we all make mistakes. It wasn’t helpful to say anything.”
(the photo is one I pulled off the web but looks like mine without fenders)
