then, to be the world’s biggest hill. When going down this hill on our bikes, we could fly. I could feel the wind in my face and the smell the fresh air in my nose. When I was flying down the hill the handlebars were the navigation tools for my plane. With these handle bars I always had the perfect grip on my bike. My hands fit into the grooves flawlessly and I could maneuver around any bend or curve in any road. As I cruised through the neighborhood up steep hills and around sharp curves my bike and I became one. Familiar landscape was a mere blur of swirling, streaming color. Trees flowed into houses as I sped by and the sky melted into the ground on the horizon.In those days, my shiny pink bike was my faithful friend, my constant companion. Together we discovered a world I had never experienced before. The freedom and the wonder were unparalleled. We all have to grow up sometime and when we do, we have to leave behind childhood memories and some of our favorite objects which helped us to make the memories. My bike is now gone. However, the hill is not. Every once in a while I drive my car to this hill and cruise down, it remembering the times that Lindsay and I spent here. ...
