It was a cool Northern California morning, the kind where low clouds hovered just above the rooftops. School was still a couple of hours away—far enough in the distance that it barely registered. What mattered in that moment was the job in front of me.
I gripped the handlebars, working to keep the bike steady as the heavy bag of newspapers tugged me from side to side. Balance was always the hardest part at the beginning of the route. At least it wasn’t raining. Still, the chill in the air cut through my light jacket.
I was ten years old, and this was my first job—a paper route. If I remember correctly, I earned about $40 a month to deliver 35 papers every morning, rain or shine. There was a chance to make a little extra by signing up new subscriptions, something a few of us would occasionally try with our district manager (who drove a white van, don’t even get me started on that and how it sounds today). I don’t recall spending much of that money on anything beyond parts for my BMX bike.
Bikes, for me, have always meant freedom.
Whether I was delivering newspapers at dawn, riding dirt tracks until sunset, climbing through the long ascents in the Rocky Mountains, or simply cruising through a neighborhood, the feeling was always the same—unrestricted, unburdened, and entirely my own.
Some might say that paper route was life-changing. Maybe it was. But what I remember most is simpler than that: it got me out of the house, and it gave me a reason to ride.
By then, my dad had been gone for four years, and life had quietly reshaped itself. The house was smaller. Food didn’t stretch as far. My mom worked long hours and wasn’t home much. I don’t recall any of it with bitterness—it was simply the reality of that time.
And through it all, the bike was constant.
Even years later, whether I was grinding through mile 80 of a century ride or pushing my way up a mountain pass under a hot summer sun, the experience remained the same. Like those early mornings on my paper route, the memories are always positive, no matter the challenge.
When was the last time you rode a bike?


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