I had a gang. Me. 75 pounds of awkward, in a Mickey Mouse T-shirt. A scrape on every elbow and knee, missing teeth and a perpetual lump on my forehead. I had a gang, and we rode bikes.
Our BMX were legend. Plastic seats and chrome handlebars. The buzzing hum of a baseball card ground against the spokes of our 18-inch wheels. We were the fearless innovators of the curb jump, the hometown heroes of the cul-de-sac. Ceaseless adventurers.
Those days lasted forever, but that summer vanished in the blink of an eye.
Nostalgia for those long-gone days is a warm blanket that I still wrap myself in. Big League Chew for the soul.
My bike is different now, the wheels are bigger and the black sheen of carbon fiber has replaced the gleaming shine of chrome. My days are shorter too and I can’t ride as much as I’d like, but that feeling is still there.
I still adventure, I still jump curbs.
I don’t want that feeling to ever go away from me. I want to pass it on to future generations of curb-jumpers. I want more access to the land around me, to make new trails that lead to new adventures for the little rippers just getting started. I want to see the trails that I have known and loved for my whole life be managed, sustained and protected, forever.
That feeling of freedom that only exists on the seat of a bicycle is one of my life’s greatest joys. To have any chance to inject that freedom into my adulthood, to see that nostalgia resurrected and to share that passion with my community is the answer to the question that brought you here. Why REMBA? Because, I’ve got a gang, and we ride bikes.