The Shop

A Bike Shop Built Around You

What do you as a customer expect from a business today? The common consensus is phenomenal customer service! Here at Jerks Bike shop we believe in serving you guaranteed satisfaction. If you are are not totally satisfied with what you purchased or services rendered please let us correct the issue or we will give you a full refund. We sell bikes, just like the shop down the street but you won’t find a more friendly group of people than here at Jerks! Stop by today to see why our clients keep coming back.

My First Bike: A Love Story

At the tender age of 10 it seemed like the whole world had a bike except me.

I would ask my friends if I could ride their bike whenever the time was appropriate and they usually took pity on me and obliged.

As Christmas was approaching my thoughts were of electric trains and such and in 1955 money was scarce, not that we went to bed hungry but money was spent on the basics of life like food and housing and the odd new pair of jeans. We also were one of the houses that didn’t have a television which was less of an inconvenience than not having a bike.

Because we lived in Utah and it is cold in December I am not really sure of when it dawned on me that a bike would be a good thing to ask for at Christmas time.

I wasn’t even sure what kind of bike to ask for, anything with 2 wheels that held air would have been fine so when I mentioned it to my Mom that I would really like a bike for Christmas I was caught off guard when she said “what kind of bike”

Back in those days we didn’t have Bicycle Shops that had all different kinds of bikes, they came from hardware stores or Sears & Roebuck or Montgomery Ward and I had never been in any of those stores that I can remember.

I had no idea what a bike cost in those days, probably some ridiculous amount like $15 or $20 which in today’s money based on the BIG MAC index would be like $250 – $300.

As this was only a passing comment to my Mom and never put in a letter to Santa or discussed with my Dad who was much less sympathetic than my Mom I had no dreams on Christmas Eve of gliding down long sloping hills on a mechanized vehicle which I was in complete control of.

The traditional wake-up call on Christmas morning at our house was the very loud ringing of sleigh bells which my Mom would say were the bells on Santa’s reindeer ringing as he flew away from our house and every year no matter how fast we bounded out of bed we never could catch a glimpse of his hasty, noisy departure.

The good news was he always left stuff at our house before he left and in 1955 his offerings included probably the biggest surprise of my young life – A bright red, brand new 26 inch Schwinn bike, the coolest bike ever left for a 10 year old kid and that was just the beginning.

Even though it was December and cold, the sun was shining and immediately after breakfast that bike was wheeled down the front porch stairs by me and my dad into the wet snow along the walks which was melting quickly in the morning sun.

Even though I had no hat or gloves on that first ride I was not aware of the cold, only the exhilarating feeling of being on MY bike and the freedom it gave me – I can only imagine the feeling Orville and Wilber Wright had that day at Kitty Hawk but I’m sure it was similar.

I had many adventures on that bike, riding it to Logana Plunge to go swimming with my suit rolled up in a towel and wedged in the cross bar which I’m sure it was designed for, to the airport north of Logan to hang around Roy Tire’s shop all day and bum airplane rides, delivering papers in all kinds of weather, the long-long ride to Preston Idaho to get my merit badge and up American Fork canyon to the cave camp and that faithful friend never let me down.

The last time I saw her she was leaning up against the fence in my parent’s back yard with grass growing high into her spokes long after I owned a car and abandoned her for more efficient transportation. I am sure she was responsible for my inherent love for motorcycles.

I miss her and that memorable first ride, I hope she is in some bike shop, restored to her original glory and displayed as an iconic symbol to the way things used to be.

—Mike Sherrod (December 2012)

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