I was most definitely a bicycle kid.
Mind you, I probably wasn’t the type of bicycle kid that Phil Cook had in mind when he wrote this song. I imagine he was thinking more about the kind of bicycle kids who had adventures, darting through subdivisions by way of hidden footpaths like the kids in E.T.
No, I was more of a solo biker. On my trips around the block I would pretend to be a subway train driver. There were six stops on my route, usually marked by corners or fire hydrants. I would even press the top of my bell to open and close the doors, much to the confusion and probably amusement of the pedestrians I had just passed who were now overtaking me again as I waited for my passengers to board.
Occasionally, some much cooler bicycle kids would pass by, riding their BMX bikes in the road and wondering why I was on the sidewalk when I was clearly old enough to be down where they were.
But of course I couldn’t use the road. I mean, the road? Whoever heard of a subway train that went on the road? Seriously.
What makes this a beautiful song:
1. On an album of nostalgic impressions of childhood, this song is maybe the most wistful and carefree. It’s sandwiched between the hymn-like “Brothers” and the title track. Give the whole album a listen if you have the chance.
2. You can hear the bicycle rider switch gears at 1:22.
3. You can hear them almost lose their balance at 1:58.
Recommended listening activity:
Putting stickers on your bike with the understanding that stickers make bikes faster.