I was had really mastered riding on the big 28 inch blue bike I got for visiting the dentist in Hamlin, WV. Wow, it was really streamlined Schwinn and had larger wheels than any of my friends. I could get on this bike and travel places in record time. My blue bike even had a bell that I could ring as I passed a house. I guess you could say I was getting a little cocky.
It was a really hot summer day and my mother said she sure would like to have a nice cold Coca-Cola. We didn’t have any soft drinks at the house, but my Uncle Denver had a little grocery store about half a mile up the road. I was very quick to volunteer to ride my bike and get mother some Coca-Cola. The Coke came in a six pack of small bottles and I didn’t think that would be any problem.
Up the road I went like a blue streak. I was peddling, ringing my bell and thinking how fast you could travel on a big 28 inch bike. I arrived at Uncle Denver’s store, bought the pop, held the little six pack under the right handle bar with my hand. This seemed easier before I tried it.
Down the road I went with the Coke that my mom was wanting on this hot summer day. I couldn’t ring my bell on the way back. I had my hands full. I was almost at our mailbox when a car coming down the road had a big smart driver that wanted to scare me. He got up near me and started blowing his horn and pounding the car door. The next few seconds are hard to remember. I started putting on my brakes, flipped over the handle bars and the Coke went flying on the rocks and gravel below.
Believe it or not, the bottles of Coke didn’t break, but I had blood running down my knees and my pride was injured for weeks to come. That was the last time I delivered “Coke on the rock” via bicycle.