Man… what is was to be young. Really young — like toddlers teething young. Completely different time. I, for one, was riding the plastic tops to toy boxes down flights of wooden stairs at my family’s old house on 88th Street, first laughing as I slammed into the first-floor walls, then crying as I was yelled at for the massive dents I had caused.
These kids, the cutest rippers to ever shred the dirt, exercise A LOT more control over their riding ways then I did at that age. But we share/shared one thing in common: we were having the days of our lives. That isn’t to say it gets worse; only that it will never again be so carefree.
Anyway, this edit comes from Commencal which makes “World Cup” quality push bikes, so there’s that.
