A few weeks ago, I made a long overdue trip to visit my dad in Arizona, and we spent several evenings that weekend digging out, thumbing through, and organizing family photos. Piled away in boxes was the snapshot version of our family history — but in no particular order. Great, great grandparents intermingled with cousins mixed with me and my sister as kids.
Of the many surprises were these two bicycle-themed gems. That’s me rocking the badass training wheels. And the other is my grandfather in 1959 on a sweet ride of his own.