When I returned to my hometown last year and opened a house where I had used up my belongings, I saw an old-fashioned weighted bicycle of the Flying Pigeon brand. A thick layer of ash fell on it, and there was a silent silence in the scrap heap. About this bicycle, it carries too many memories of childhood, and on its body, the changes of the times are recorded. Its silence also tells the cruelty of time.

I still remember the origin of this old weighted bicycle of the Flying Pigeon brand vividly, it was a second-hand bicycle that my father bought from an acquaintance in a neighboring village. At that time, my father was also financially constrained and couldn't afford to buy a new bicycle, so he picked up a bargain. Since having that bike, it's been the family's main mode of transportation.

Our village is quite far from the town, and in terms of kilometers, it is not very far, only about forty kilometers. But the road conditions in my hometown are all rugged mountain roads, and to go to the town, you have to go to the river, climb the mountain, and cross the ditch. In this way, it is very difficult to walk. Before he didn't have a bicycle, my father probably used to walk the streets a lot, but I can't remember the time anymore.

Whenever my father went to the streets, he would buy us a lot of new things. It's either a toy or something delicious. Living in such a closed township, to be honest, it feels like everything outside is so fresh. So, every time my father went out on the street, we were very happy. When my father went out, he pulled the back of his bicycle and watched him go away. There were no telephones at that time, and when my father was about to return, my brother and I ran to the bottom of the mountain to pick him up.

Wait, wait, wait, and when the sun was about to set, my father and a few people from the same village came on the weighted bicycle. The front and back of the bicycle were full of straps, and my father tied them very tightly, and after such a long mountain road, it still maintained its original appearance.

My brother and I walked down the hill with great strides. Grab my father's bicycle handlebar, and he gave it to us brothers. My brother pushes in the back and I grab the handlebars in the front. I was very short at the time, and the handlebars were half a head taller than me. Still, in order to give my father a break, I still pushed the bike strongly. Sometimes, it always feels like the bike is pushing me. Sometimes the balance is not controlled, and even the person leads the car to the side, which provokes his father to criticize.

At that time, I was just as excited about going to the street as I am when I went to the big city now. "Street" actually refers to the streets of the town, and because of the long distance, my brother and I rarely have the opportunity to go to the streets. But two or three times a year, my father made an exception for the two of us to go shopping with him on the street.

Before dawn, the two brothers could not contain the excitement of going out into the street, and put on the new clothes stored in the cupboard early. When my father was ready, the three of us set off. I was a little heavier, my father made me sit in the back seat of the bike, and my brother sat reclining on the front beam. I really sighed that my father's riding skills were good, and I couldn't figure out how to manage a bicycle to carry two people.

Facing the wind, my father pedaled the bicycle with ease. I saw a beautiful picture moving through the shadows of the sun. Enjoying the scenery along the way, asking questions along the way, my father sometimes ignored him, and when it came time to go back, it was even more difficult. Because my father bought a lot of things, and he had to take them and hunch us both on. Gao Ming's father still solved the problem with ease, and the bicycle was full of things wherever he could hang them. My father greeted the acquaintances he met, talked to several uncles in the same village, and pedaled his bicycle. When it was hot, my father's sweat flowed down and dripped onto my face through the action of the wind. Sitting in the back, I was thinking that I must grow up well, and when I grew up, I would ride my bicycle to carry my father.

When we got a little bit older, we thought about riding that bike. So I called my brother to help, and he put the car in the back for me, and I stretched my legs to the three forks and moved forward step by step. With perseverance, we finally learned to ride the bike, but in three forks. It stands to reason that we don't have the right to ride weighted bikes yet because the legs aren't long enough to support the bikes themselves.

Once when I came home from school with a little friend, I happened to meet the uncle who came back from the street. The partner really wanted to ride someone's bike, so he found an excuse to help someone else take over the uncle's bike. At first he rode decently, and he thought he would wait for us behind him. When his leg was about to support the ground, he didn't calculate the distance, and his leg was just in the air on the cliff next to him. With a scream, the bicycle slowly stopped on the road, and the little friend fell off the cliff, and after free fall, it set off a wave of dirt in the ground. We ran to check the situation, he cried and got up from the ground, and after the uncle's inspection, fortunately he was not injured.

At that time, there were several partners who would ride in the three forks, setting off a wave of cycling fever, and everyone drove their own weighted bicycles around, which became a major safety hazard in the village. A little friend rushed downhill directly, lost the brakes, and overturned in the canal with the car. At that time, the dolls seemed to be much more leathery, and it was generally fine to fall from here and there. The little friend was also lucky that he was not injured, but only scratched a little skin.

However, there are also injured, a big dad who is older than us, is due to the loss of control of the bicycle, rushed on the flat beach in the village and fell, the brake of the bicycle poked directly into the eye, it hurts to think about it, fortunately it was only the back of the operation, leaving a scar, did not hurt the eye.

Because of the bicycle incident, I and the partner who fell in the field also went to the morning meeting of the school, and the principal called us to the front in front of the whole school and set an example, so that the whole school teachers and students could take warning; the cause of the incident was because I and the partner rode bicycles to do farm work for the family, and we recklessly rode our bicycles through the narrow road in the village, and the partner was faster than me and walked ahead of me. happened to meet his fifth master who turned around the corner, and with his partner's "fifth master", the partner scared the fifth master enough and rushed to the ground in front of him to avoid injuring the fifth master. This scene happened to be seen by the principal and my uncle, so we went to the meeting.

Later times changed dramatically, and the popularity of motorcycles replaced bicycles. I don't know when, the bike was abandoned in the scrap heap. When I saw that bicycle, I thought that I should build a house, build a family museum, and display that bicycle in it, so that future generations can enter that era through bicycles.