The Chocolate Bike

On a bike with no seat, I learned how to ride on two wheels. While some kids tried with all their might to stay on and ride the wobbles out, I jumped off. The ground was a softer landing. But I still rode fast.

Many of the neighborhood kids made fun of my bike. They said it was too rusty and the wheels were going to fall off. “What kind of bike doesn’t have a seat?” they asked. I decided not to ride my bike anymore.

That lasted a day. Seat or no seat, I loved riding my bike. The problem: I kept growing but my bike did not. I told my mom and dad that I needed a new bike. They told me my new baby sister needed things, too, and there was not enough money to buy everything.

Every Sunday I was the first to read the advertisements in the paper. Whenever I found a bike for sale, I showed it to my mom and dad.

“Look, Mom! This is a really cool bike. Can I get it?” I would ask.

My mom always replied kindly, “Maybe later when we have more money.” Of course, I then went to ask my dad. He'd study the pictures of the bikes a bit longer, his eyes softening, but he'd always say with a sigh, “It'll have to be later, champ."

I really wanted a bike. Spring was coming and the thought of going through the whole summer with a bike that was too small and didn’t have a seat made me sad.

Luckily, the start of baseball took my mind off bikes for a while. That is, until the chocolate bar sale started. To play and get a jersey, every player had to sell 30 chocolate bars. If a player sold more, they would “win” a prize. If a player sold sixty, they would win a duffle bag. If they sold 90, they would win a radio. And so, the prizes went: the more a player sold, the better the prize won. The best prize was a bike.

When I saw the glossy picture of the bike in the catalogue, I knew I would sell enough. But when I saw how many chocolate bars I would have to sell, my heart sank a little. Still, I knew I could do it.

Off I went to the grocery store to sell my chocolate bars. “Do you want to buy a chocolate bar?” I asked a man walking into the store.

“I don’t like chocolate,” said the man.

“Do you want to buy a chocolate bar?” I asked a woman holding a little girl by the hand.

“I don’t have any money,” replied the woman as she walked into the store. I wondered how she was going to buy anything in the store.

And so, it went. Dejectedly I walked home.

“What’s wrong, Gordy?” wondered my mom as I walked in the door.

“I couldn’t sell any chocolate bars,” I replied.

“What are you talking about?”

“I have to sell a whole bunch of chocolate bars for the bike and...,” I moaned as my voice was muffled in my mom’s shirt.

“Gordy, please tell me what you mean.” So, I explained to her about the chocolate sale, the jersey, the batting glove, and, most importantly, the bike. She told me to tell my dad when he came home.

As soon as I saw my dad, my eyes welled with tears even before I could put my arms around him.

“Gordy, are you okay?” questioned my dad. I told him everything. My dad sat there for a long time.

Finally, I asked my dad if he was okay. My dad said he was and wanted to know the phone number of my coach.

“Gordy, you are going to have to try your best and sell the most you can. If you want to play, you need to sell enough for your jersey. If you want that bike, you need to sell a lot more than that.” I said I would try my hardest.

And I did. Every day after school I sold chocolate bars. Sometimes I went to the store. Sometimes I went to the hamburger place. Sometimes I went to the bank because I knew the people walking out could not say they didn’t have any money.

After almost four weeks, I had sold 28 chocolate bars. I went to my grandma’s house. She bought the last two so I could earn my jersey. I didn’t tell her about the bike because I knew I wasn’t going to get it. My grandma said she could not wait until my first game. She always cheered the loudest.

As I went to my next practice to turn in my money and receive my jersey, I saw a beautiful bike in the middle of the baseball diamond. My mind went dizzy. The bike was black with gold stripes running down its frame. I couldn’t believe someone had sold that many chocolate bars! I could hardly wait to see who had done it.

As the coaches called out names for jerseys and then for prizes, I did not pay much attention. All I could do was look at that bike. I could see myself riding through the neighborhood with my new baseball jersey on and the wind blowing through my hair. I would let my friends ride it, but it would be mine to bring home. As the coaches called two names for two radios, all I was thinking about was the hill by my house and how nice it would be to ride down it on a bike with a seat.

When my name was called for the bike, I knew it was a mistake. But I didn’t care. While the crowd cheered, I was kicking up the infield dust as I ran to the bike. I hopped on and rode away before they could realize the mistake and call me back.

Not me, but still…you get the idea.

The wind blew through my hair just as I had imagined. The tears the wind made were mixed with the tears my happiness made. I took the long way home.

I jumped curbs and small pets. I went over the speed bumps in the park. My friends playing outside all came to see me as I rode past their houses. I told them I would be back later to let them ride.

But I knew there wasn’t going to be a later. I knew I had to go home and then back to the baseball field to give the bike back. I was scared what my mom was going to say.

“Mom!” I yelled as I ran into the house. “I know it was a mistake. I just wanted...I’ll take it back....” I whimpered into her arms. “I promise.”

“Gordy, what is going on? Aren’t you supposed to be at practice? I see your new jersey. What happened?” she asked.

“I took the bike. I’ll bring it back right now.”

“Ohhh,” was all she said. I looked up at her. She smiled. She sat down and pulled me close.

“Have you noticed what time your dad has been coming home lately?”

I had not thought about it. “No,” I said.

“Well, he has been coming home late. Gordy, your dad sold all those chocolate bars for you. He wanted you to have that bike. He saw you did all you could and sold the rest for you.”

I did not know what to say, but there never was a boy more proud of his bike. And his dad who helped him get it.