This isn’t exactly the “travel related” column that my earlier ones have been; but it sort of is, and is “travel related.” So, here goes. When I was 12 years old, “Santa Claus” brought ne the most wonderful Christmas present: a 26” (full sized) burgundy Murray bicycle, which replaced the much-smaller 12” red one had gotten when I was six years old.

I had had other exciting Christmas presents before: a small printing press, a chemistry set, and even a magic tricks set, complete with a “rabbit in a top hat.” But the full-size bicycle opened my world up beyond the block I lived on, or places my parents would have to take me to.

That first one came with a set of add-on “training wheels,” mounted on both sides of the rear wheel, which kept me upright as I learned to balance myself on this two-wheeled contraption, and not fall off. That was of course their purpose.

My dad was very patient, as he helped me get on that little red bike and learn to ride it up and down the dirt lane behind our house in Savannah. The training wheels kept me from falling off, while I learned this new trick of balancing myself while moving forward.

Eventually I no longer needed those training wheels, and my dad took them off. But I was still just a little kid, so it took a lot more practice on that little red bike before I was allowed to ride it by myself anywhere other than that alley – and then only on the sidewalk on the next street over – the only one near my house that had a sidewalk.

So when I “graduated” six years later to the much bigger 26” bicycle, and was then allowed to roam a much bigger radius from our house, I was thrilled! My best friend next door (a year younger) was by then allowed to ride with me, and we usually went either to the neighboring elementary school, two blocks away, with its large campus and what seemed like miles of sidewalks, or to Hull Park, a much larger playground a few blocks away, on a quiet side street, where we could ride our bikes to our hearts’ content, or stop and shoot baskets for a bit.

Those were the days! We were eventually allowed to ride over to Daffin Park, even further away, to use their larger playground, or – in the summer – to go swimming in the pool there on Saturday mornings after our chores were done.

A bit later, we were allowed to ride our bikes over to the Putt-Putt on Bee Road, across from Grayson Stadium, where we could play mini-golf for a couple of hours, and then go to the Krystal next door for a waffle and milk or orange juice, or a couple of their mini-burgers and fries.

A wonderful Saturday morning, all for $2 or less! What a deal!

I would later ride that bike up to the public library at 37th and Bull Streets, check out half a dozen kids’ books, bring them home and read them, then go back the next Saturday to turn those in and get another half dozen or so. It was wonderful.

A good bike to a young kid in those days was just as important as a car to a teenager: it gave us freedom! (Without having to pay for gas.) Freedom to roam, to go places, to do things our parents would not necessarily take us to, to “do our own thing.”

I later rode that bike to both school and church, and even later, to my summer job, all the way on the north side of town. Saved me having to ride the (slow) city bus, and was a lot more fun.

Then I got to high school, and found cars were better for going on dates. You couldn’t take a date to the Friday night football game on a bike. So that was the end of the bike! But it was great while it lasted.

Rafe Semmes is a proud graduate of (“the original”) Savannah High School and the University of Georgia. He and his wife live in eastern Liberty County,