The Plastic Bike

It’s the tiny plastic bike (actually, it’s supposed to be a motorcycle, I think) that doesn’t die!  We acquired it way back when we lived in that cute white house in Bismarck from a neighbor whose daughter had gotten too tall for it.  She had a new pedal bike that she rode up and down the sidewalk, but she wasn’t happy about giving this blue plastic wonder to our toddling YaYa.  Sometimes she’d scurry over to our yard when her parents weren’t watching and try to drag it back to her own.

YaYa fell in love with it instantly, and it was the highlight of her life for a couple of summers. It moved to Wisconsin and later Minnesota.  She grouched when it was time to give it over to Mr. SP, and he grouched even more when The Banana started walking and immediately wanted to sit on this bike, all the time.  Wearing a tutu, she pushed and scooted this plastic wonder all around our yard until she was truly, truly too tall to use it.  The bike spent a summer up the hill at our neighbor’s yard until their little girl outgrew it, and then came back to our yard to be used constantly last summer.

It wasn’t forgotten over the winter.  These days it catapults a little boy down the sidewalk with a hill, evoking shrieks of laughter and big smiles.  The plastic is cracking.  The front wheel is crooked.

This is one well loved piece of plastic.