On my fourth birthday I received a grape purple Schwinn ‘big kid’ BIKE! It came with training wheels… I tooled around on the driveway for about 20 minutes, marched into the kitchen and demanded they be taken off. My mother all flustered, my dad with a knowing grin stood 20 feet apart on the blacktop and pushed me back and forth standing farther and farther apart with each pass. After about 15 minutes of that I circled the drive a few times and rolled off down he hill. I was FREE. I yelled to my mom that I’d be back before dark.

I went to explore the canyons and visit all my little friends. To her credit, Mom, instead of freaking out and shrieking at me to come back ( I was only four) simply got on the phone to all my little friend’s moms and proceeded to track my progress through the neighborhood with the accuracy of NORAD, as I flew by kitchen window after kitchen window. It was 1968.

I became a professional artist at 19 when I sold my first painting, quit my day job and later dropped out of school (oops). But it’s taken 25 years of painting and 40 years on two wheels for the love of cycling to make the trip from my heart to my brain where it finally trickled down my right arm and hit the canvas.

So here it is, my first ever bike painting. It does have a precedent in my body of work, for those of you who are serious art enthusiasts. It follows from a series called “Scribbles” (for obvious reasons). You can see more Scribbles on my website if you like.

I’m serving it up here for ‘my people’, my bike people, like my first born. But don’t feel you have to tell me the baby is pretty. Please express whatever you’d like. The point of ART is neither to be ‘good’ nor ‘bad’, ‘right’ or ‘wrong’, but to make you think and ultimately feel in a way that you hadn’t thought or felt before you looked at it. If you happen to enjoy it, well heck, that’s gravy!

Yes, there will be more joining this one soon, pedaling hard on his heels about to catch…