In the workers' village where I lived as a child, there is a white Water Gate Ting Road, which poetically surrounds and connects the buildings in the shade of greenery. Every day near noon, a young postwoman in a beret-style green hat and a green uniform will be seen riding a green bicycle (we also call a bicycle), flying around the flat cement road of the new village like a spring swallow. Later, the family bought a permanent brand 13 type manganese steel dark green bicycle. My father was in his prime, tall and tall, riding a bicycle, and full of energy. My father also took me on a ride to visit friends. I sat on the back seat and looked at my father's broad back, and I had a sense of solidity. When I grew up, I learned that this feeling is called "father like a mountain".
The classic models on display in the permanent bicycle exhibition hall bear witness to the history of the permanent brand. Photo by Zhang Chi
Boys seemed to be born with a fondness for moving objects, and at that time, in our eyes, riding a bicycle was not only beautiful, but also quite manly. One summer, a classmate brought in an old bicycle from home. A few of our friends are eager to try. Directly step on the car, sit well, and be helped by the classmates to push forward from the back seat of the car, and the two feet begin to pedal, and the car is straight forward. Because it doesn't turn until it hits a big tree. Just like that, I fell off the bike again and again, and everyone laughed. Slowly master some cycling skills, and understand a little balance, you can go on the road. I remember the day I learned to ride, a person rode wildly along a sparsely populated road, without knowing how to turn back. The road seemed to have no end, and in the distance there were only drifting clouds and open skies. The wind blew my hair and I had the feeling of flying. Seeing that there is a bridge in front of me, I rushed up with a few hard pedals, and in the instant of going downhill, the wheels flew and the blood veins opened. What an invigorating!
After graduating from high school, I went to a factory technical school and got a bicycle of my own. In the time of young people, there will always be a flash of one or two girls. However, at that time, we rarely talked to each other between boys and girls. Once, the workshop regiment branch organized an outing and asked the boys to bring a girl in each of the back seats, and everyone was free to pair up. A fair-white, round-faced girl with big twinkling eyes ran up to me, smiled at me, and said, "I'll take your car." "It was a bright spring May. We were all dressed in white shirts and singing along the way. We are gorgeous, we are fragrant; we are passionate, we are clear. I carried the girl, and in my ignorance, I suddenly had a sense of pride, and a sense of responsibility also came out of nowhere. I suddenly understood that when the factory left work, the young couple sat on a bicycle together with a bright smile on their faces. This is probably the abuse of a young man towards maturity.
My mother was working in a middle school library. She knew I loved books, so every Sunday, she asked me to ride to a Xinhua bookstore in Lao ximen to help retrieve all kinds of new books delivered to the school, including foreign literary masterpieces that were on the market at that time. Every time, I would take a lot of rope and come to the bookstore early. Move the book, order it, bundle it, and then place it on either side of the back seat. Sometimes there are many books, and two bundles are placed on the handlebars in front of the car. It's a test for riders. Thankfully, I have several years of cycling experience and am comfortable with speed and balance. A trip down, although it is hard, but I am excited and happy. Not only because I love books, but also because I feel that this bike carries a dream. At that time, the home was full of books, Hugo, Balzac, Shakespeare, Maupassant, Tolstoy... Pile up desks. I was immersed in a sea of books, hungry and thirsty. Two years later, I took the city-organized journalist-editor recruitment exam and became a journalist as I wished.
Time goes without words. The bicycle accompanies our generation through the joys, romances and happiness that our generation once had. However, life still has its desolation.
In the early 1990s, I went to the United States to study. In order to make a living, it is often necessary to work part-time. That winter vacation, I came to New York. Because he could ride a bicycle, he quickly found a Deliver job in a Chinese restaurant (today's takeaway brother). At first, I was a little secretly happy, holding the delivery list and happily shuttling back and forth in Manhattan. Two days later, an international student quietly told me that your workstation and bicycle were originally a graduate student from Nanjing, and he died in a car accident a week ago. After receiving a call from the relevant party, his elderly parents cried on the phone: "No one is gone, why are we still coming to the United States?" "I can't forget the deep eyes of the international student when he talked to me. That day, I rode aimlessly down the streets of Manhattan, my brain blank, with neither a past nor a future. I felt that this was the furthest moment in my life from the world. Snowflakes fell in the sky, and the first snow fell in New York that year.
Manhattan, New York, Xinhua
Later, I went back to Michigan, where I went to school, bought a used car, and while studying, I took advantage of my spare time to drive a takeaway. Looking at the Lincoln, Mercedes-Benz, and BMW speeding past on the road, a thought flashed in my mind, how beautiful it would be to have such a car myself one day! By this time, the bike was fading from my memory.
The days of studying abroad soon ended, and I returned to Shanghai to work for a foreign company, which was allocated a special car. Later, I bought my own favorite sports utility car. Dreams seem to come true inadvertently. Oddly enough, I didn't feel any excitement. The days go by. Life becomes rigid and mechanical, like a clock hanging on a wall, walking precisely minute by minute. The pleasure of driving is declining. Instead, being in an iron box and fastening your seat belt makes you feel bound.
Until one day, there were rows of colorful bicycles on the street, orange, yellow, green, bright and dazzling. I opened WeChat, scanned, "clicked", the car lock opened. For a moment, I was amazed that I had almost no memory of the bike. Now, I'm riding it again, and the joy, the enthusiasm, the freshness that was once there, come to my face, just like the feelings that came from my heart a long time ago. I rode like I did for the first time more than 40 years ago, along a wide road, as if I were back in the lilac midsummer. My body swayed lightly with the willows on both sides of the road, and I had the feeling of flying again...
Column Editor-in-Chief: Huang Wei Text Editor: Huang Wei Caption Source: Zhang Haifeng Photo Infographic Photo Editor: Xiang Jianying
Source: Author: Zhou Bin