This one's for those who don't want to ride alone. I had a purple sparkluscious banana high-rise for wheelies to the pool. But later, my first 10-speed was an inexpensive, road-stripe yellow Japanese no-namer, with gears by a company nobody knew of called Shimano. "Prob'ly never be any good," some folk said.
I rode hilly miles to the valley for native brook fishing in the clear crystal flows and deep cool shadows of the Blue Ridge. The solo ride and the focused solitude of trout fishing without much success rejuvenated my village self to return the hills.