Having lugged it up six flights of stairs over my shoulder, Letad’s Christmas present stood by the window hiding under a blanket. You’d never know what it was except for the wheels and handles bars poking out from underneath.
There was a tragic story attached. While sitting on the bike in the shop (it was never going to be a surprise) Letad looked over at the salesman and said, with a quiver in his voice, “I’ve never had a new bike before.” A tear came to the eye of even the hardest man, and the deal was done.
The bike was carried down six flights of stairs and ridden with abandon on Christmas morning as after decades, the wish had finally been granted. Flying down the hill with legs outstretched, an eight year old boy materialized.
Six flights back up and it was time to go out for Christmas lunch…where the sad story about the new bike was hotly disputed.
Apparently Letad had been the owner of chopper complete with hooter, only the creme de la creme of kids bikes in the 70s. The story was poo-pooed by the family of Letad and much debate ensued.
Chopper or not, the Christmas bike was a big success.