The Adventures of Stingray and Chopper

Many years ago my next door neighbor and I, both ten, went on a great bicycle adventure. By today's standards it probably wouldn't seem that incredible, however, combined with our ages and the fact that we didn't have fancy bikes or equipment, it was nothing to be scoffed at. Our mode of transport consisted of one Schwinn Stingray with a banana style seat, and one modified model of a similar style, with the added feature of having the forks greatly extended for aesthetics, which offered little in the way of practical purpose. I rode the former, my friend the latter.

The plan - which was surely made up on a whim with no real consideration for the distance to be traveled or quality of equipment - was put into place one day with little fanfare and nothing in the way of granted permission from the higher-ups, aka, our parents.

Our trip would take us from Canoga Park to Santa Monic via Topanga Canyon and was approximately 25 miles one way. On level ground that is fine, however, at one point Topanga Canyon gets extremely steep and once the incline is breached, proceeds to descend sharply towards the Ocean. It only has two narrow lanes and is definitely not for the squeamish, especially when cars go whipping past you at sixty mph. I cannot recall bringing water, food, or for that matter any money to buy some if we wanted; we were essentially, just two young boys with only our bikes and our will.

Luckily we made it through the canyon and along Pacific Coast Highway to my father's place, who going to visit was the primary motivation for the adventure for me at least. He was living in a small beach apartment at the time. After the initial shock and surprise at seeing his young son so far from home with his friend and our bikes, he quickly decided there was no way he could allow us to make the return trip and drove us home. He spoke of it for years afterwards.

I have made the same ride as an adult, with perhaps just a bit more emphasis on equipment and a greater forethought into the level of my fitness, but it has never been the same. The ride of my youth was the last great adventure before crossing into a place where everything is planned and ideas thought through; a place where you go when you are no longer a pirate on a ship, but merely a boy standing in a tree house. It was a simpler time - a time to just live in the moment and not worry if something would work or not; a time to do now and think later.

We didn't need a lot then, with little more than a Stingray and a Chopper, we rode off to adventure.