I learned to ride a bicycle when I was 27 years old. I learned only because all of a sudden I decided I shouldn’t go around in life without knowing how to ride.
My first bike was an MTB I bought from a friend. It served its purpose: I learned to ride and then left the bike more or less abandoned.
Since childhood I have been a walker. I can walk for miles, but was always afraid of mounting on stuff I can’t control (there’s a photo of me somewhere crying while riding on a donkey).
Years after my first bike experience I moved from Mexico to Paris to become a Spanish teacher for a year. There I met who would become my wife and cycling companion.
At the time, she used to ride around the city while I was crushed and stomped upon on the Paris Métro. After some weeks of that torture, I decided to get my first bike: the cheapest MTB I could buy at a Decathlon store.
A new romance began back then and now I’m just finishing my third bike trip. Thank you old bike! This is a nostalgia post for that real first bike