my first bicycle essay

My First Experience in Riding a Bicycle

Being a child involves dealing with new issues almost every day and learning how to overcome your fears. My first experience of riding a bicycle at the age of five is among my most vivid memories when it comes to the joys of childhood and conquering fears. On that day in summer, I acquired new skills and became more confident in my physical abilities, and these memories still help me today.

As a five-year-old child, I regarded riding bikes as something exciting but scary. At that age, I was still riding my bike with one training wheel to develop a sense of balance and become confident enough. I still remember my bike with white, pink, and purple elements, a small bicycle bell, and two colorful handlebar pompoms. On one bright and sunny day during summer break, my uncle finally told me that training wheels were only for babies and that it was high time for me to start riding my bike without assistance.

My uncle’s determination to take the training wheel off deeply affected me and, to some degree, instilled mixed feelings in my heart. I actually wanted to prove that I was old enough to master the skill of riding a bike and said with confidence that I was not a baby. However, from the perspective of a young child, taking the training wheel off was similar to a drastic change in life.

To my surprise, my fear of falling gave way to excitement and enthusiasm a few minutes after we started practicing. My uncle devoted enough time to teach me how to turn, and we practiced near my grandfather’s house until I was able to ride to the corner without falling. Of course, that experience was not without unpleasant moments because I fell a few times and scraped my knee due to having no protective equipment.

In conclusion, I often remember that day with happiness and sweet sadness. Most importantly, the day when I learned to ride a bike bubbles to the surface of my memory when I hesitate to try something new. This experience has helped me to realize that what seems scary often turns out to be fascinating and refreshing.

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Essay On ‘My Bicycle’ For Children Of Classes 1, 2 And 3

Children love their bicycles. As they grow old enough to ride, they enjoy their first cycle, and it is a memory that stays with them for a long time. Children enjoy little moments associated with their bikes. Whether it is cycling around the compound with friends or feeling like the responsible little helper by riding to nearby stores to bring small household requirements, children and their bicycles are inseparable. When asked to write an essay on the topic, they can write small paragraphs discussing their experiences or elaborate compositions bringing in some facts and general knowledge with detailed descriptions. This exercise will lay the foundation of their English grammar and improve their writing skills. It also improves their vocabulary. Let us guide your children of classes 1, 2 and 3 to write a beautiful composition on this topic.

Key Points to Remember When Writing an Essay on ‘My Bicycle’

Your child needs to remember a few points while writing an essay about their bicycle. Let us guide your child stepwise on an essay adventure about their bicycle:

• Let your child think about the ideas they want to include in their mind.
• Ask them to pen down their thoughts on paper and form an outline of the composition, ensuring they have covered all the points.
• Let your child write easy-to-read short and simple sentences from the outline.
• Guide your child not to get too descriptive about any single idea and stick to the word count.
• Direct your child to write with the flow. This will make them enjoy writing the essay.
• Your child can write about the description of their bike, when they got it, where they ride it, the best features of the bike and how they feel about it.

10 Lines on ‘My Bicycle’

Here is a sample essay to guide your child to write about their bicycle in simple lines:

• I have a glossy pink bicycle.
• My parents gifted it to me on my birthday last year.
• It has two small wheels on both sides to help me to balance.
• My cycle has a basket in the front.
• Our tiniest furry family member named Lucky enjoys a ride sitting in the basket.
• I ride my cycle with my friends in the neighbourhood.
• At first, I didn’t know how to ride the bicycle, but my father taught me how to ride smoothly.
• I wear a helmet when I ride my bicycle for safety.
• I take a lot of care of my cycle. I wipe it clean whenever it gets dusty.
• My bicycle is the best gift I have ever received.

Short Essay on ‘My Bicycle’

Your child’s bicycle makes them feel like they are flying without wings. They get a sense of independence while venturing out in the world around them, albeit safely under the guidance of their parents. Let us guide your little one to write an enjoyable essay on their bicycle, suitable for lower primary classes:

I have a shiny pink bicycle. My parents gifted it to me on my birthday last year. I love riding my cycle with my friends in the neighbourhood. I go out to cycle every afternoon, along with my friends. Sometimes I take my cute little puppy, Lucky, with me too. She sits in the basket in front of the bicycle and enjoys the ride with me. Sometimes I use the basket to collect flowers that have fallen from plants and trees. I look forward to going out on cycle rides every day. It is refreshing when the pleasant winds blow on my face while cycling. I take care of my cycle and wipe off the dust settled on it every weekend. I like it when it shines.

Long Essay on ‘My Bicycle’

Your child’s first bicycle is very special to them. Let us help your little one compose an amazing essay, suitable for class 3:

I got my first bicycle on my birthday last year. It was the cycle of my dreams, and my parents got it for me as a surprise gift. 

Bicycles were first invented by a German. The first-ever cycle didn’t have brakes or chains or pedals. Today bicycles have many advanced features for people of all ages.

My cycle is glossy pink in colour. Its body is made of sturdy metal, and the tyres are made of rubber. It has two brakes on the handle to control the speed. The seat is purple coloured made of strong silicone material. I can adjust its height as per my comfort. 

I have decorated my cycle with cute stickers and have tied short bunches of glittering ribbons to both handles. My cycle has a bottle holder where I carry my water bottle that matches the colour of my cycle. My bicycle also has a basket in the front. I carry my tiny furry friend, Lucky, in the basket, and we go around the neighbourhood along with my other friends and my brother. I also fill the basket with beautiful fragrant flowers for my mother. I enjoy riding my bike every day. It feels amazing when the cool wind blows against my face while cycling. 

Initially, my father used to hold the cycle from behind to teach me how to balance. Soon, I started riding on my own. I lost balance and fell a few times, but now I can ride smoothly for a long stretch. 

Cycles are the best mode of transport. They are good for our environment because they do not cause air pollution. We also don’t need fuel for riding cycles, so we save a lot of money and conserve our resources. Cycling is an excellent form of exercise and makes our muscles strong. So by playing on my bike, I am becoming stronger every day. My parents say that cycling is also good for our hearts. Cycles are very safe to ride, especially when I wear a helmet. I get only a few small bruises if I fall, which can heal soon. My cycle won’t hurt anyone on the streets, so every person and animal is safe from a bicycle. 

Many older students use cycles to go to school or tuition classes. Some adults use cycles to go to the office because of the benefits of riding a bike.

Everyone in my family loves riding bikes. My parents, brother, and I visit scenic locations for cycle rides on holidays.

I love cycling and will continue to ride bicycles even after becoming big. 

What Will Your Child Learn From This Essay?

Writing about their bicycle will be a fun experience for children. While thinking of all the activities they enjoy associated with their bikes, they will learn to express their feelings in words. Thinking about the benefits of cycling will also make your child contemplate matters like health, fitness, nature and conservation.

These sample essays will help your little one write a beautiful composition on their first bicycle. It will also improve your child’s linguistic skills and enhance their vocabulary. Developing their writing skills will benefit your child and lay the foundation of good communication skills. Your child will remember their first cycle all their life and perhaps find this essay years later among their old possessions, making them reminisce all the fun moments of childhood.

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Essay on Bicycle

500 words essay on bicycle.

A bicycle is a useful vehicle that helps us reach a destination without polluting the environment. It is composed of steel and has two wheels. In addition, it has got a seat and handle with two pedals and also a bell. Some bicycles have a carrier while some don’t. It is a popular choice amongst poor people and students . Essay on bicycle will help us understand its importance.

Importance of Bicycle

Bicycles have become even more important in recent times. While they have been offering us many advantages for a long time, they are very vital now. It is because of the rate at which pollution is growing in the world, they offer a greener way to commute.

In other words, bicycles do not require any petrol or diesel which harms our atmosphere. Further, it does not leave a carbon footprint as well. Thus, it is a great choice for everyone especially those who are environment-friendly.

After that, we see that bicycles do not possess the potential to harm anyone, unlike bikes, cars and buses. If you ride a bicycle, you are less likely to hurt someone or get in an accident as compared to ones who ride bikes or drive cars.

Most importantly, bicycles are great for our health. There are numerous benefits which cycling offers to ensure a healthy life. It is not only a great alternative to gym workouts but also helps prevent cardiovascular diseases .

Therefore, bicycles help to preserve our health. Similarly, they do not harm the environment. Moreover, they are also very beneficial as we can go through narrow roads with a bicycle which we cannot do with bikes or cars.

I have a bicycle which is red and black in colour. My father gifted it to me on my birthday and it is my most cherished present. The name of my bicycle is Turbo Thunder and it has many interesting features.

It comes with different gears and a basket as well. Moreover, it also has a bottle holder and a lock. I cycle every evening with my friends from the neighbourhood. It is very liberating to me to be able to cycle in the pleasant weather without any care.

My father ensures that I always wear my protective gear while cycling to prevent any injuries. I have decorated my cycle with stickers as well to make it more personalized. In addition, I go to my coaching classes on my bicycle only.

Therefore, I love my bicycle and I wish to keep it with me even after growing up. As cycling is good for the environment and our health, I plan to keep cycling for a long time to lead a healthy life and make the environment clean.

Get the huge list of more than 500 Essay Topics and Ideas

Conclusion of the Essay on Bicycle

To sum it up, bicycles are great in every aspect, whether it is regarding our health or the health of nature. Moreover, it is also not heavy on the pocket. With the world getting polluted at a faster rate day by day, it is essential for us to switch to bicycles for a healthier life and greener future.

FAQ of Essay on Bicycle

Question 1: What is the importance of a bicycle?

Answer 1: Bicycles are very important as they offer us many health benefits if we cycle regularly. In addition to that, it serves as a great workout session. Most importantly, they are great for the environment as they do not pollute it.

Question 2: Who invented the bicycle?

Answer 2: Karl von Drais was a German who invented the first bicycle. He developed it and named it the ‘swiftwalker’ which hit the road in the year 1817. The early bicycle came with no pedals and the frame was a wooden beam. It has two wooden wheels with irons rims and leather-covered tires.

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My Bicycle Essay – Essay on Bicycle for Students and Children

July 1, 2020 by Study Mentor Leave a Comment

Table of Contents

My Bicycle – Essay 1

While growing up, we learn many things. One such extraordinary journey of our childhood memory is of learning – how to ride a bicycle. No doubt, if you are a younger sibling, you will be getting the used cycle of your elder one. And if you are unlucky in marks and also the elder or only kid of your parents, you will have to rise on their expectations.

So, I am in my adolescent phase of life now. But my childhood has been the greatest of all till the date. I have an elder sister who was not much interested in bicycling. But I was desperately pressurising my parents to get me the same. Luckily, the neighbour in my society got his new bicycle and rendered me the old one. My father got bought it from him at a flexible price.

The learning phase of my bicycle ride

You know, the excitement level is explainable for any new machine you are about to use –for the very first time in your life. I got my bicycle. Now, the point was –who will teach me? Not everybody gets free service. This lesson, I learned in my early teenage years. Dad said: I can’t train you myself because of the time limit. But I have hired the same neighbour kid to teach you ideally within a month. Be confident. Enjoy while you learn! And never keep any question to yourself. Ask that brother, every doubt you have. And do let me know if he misbehaves or mistreats you.

For a child with not so large brain capacity, I did not understand the meaning of “Hired” word, which I have learnt now. In ancient days, there was a barter system, i.e., a coincidence of want. But in the modern era, every service and product value is measured in terms of money. Therefore, my dad paid my neighbour –the right amount of money to teach me well.

I was very much keen to learn. So, I got up early morning. I was very excited. I somehow managed to drag the cycle in the backyard lawn of the society. Oh! God, the bicycle was very heavy. But the excitement was above it. From there on, my training began. The cycle was a bit big for me. Therefore, my brother helped me to sit on the cycle and adjust both the leg above the paddle. First, he said: – I am holding you from the back. You won’t fall. Just consider paddling the two rectangular machine-like kit below. I did what he told me to do. I was a fast learning child. So, I did quite well with the paddling session. The next day, he showed me the move of the handles – how to take on left/ right/center at the appropriate measure. I passionately nodded yes! It was indeed a great journey.

The real learning phase

While looking up to the flashbacks of yesterday, I feel calm, and a significant smile is there on my face. It was not just about a bicycle learning phase of my life. If looked upon a more profound breakthrough, there was more to it.

As being very brilliant at the sports in school, I was always eager to learn things too quickly. I also managed to practice the same stuff in my leisure time. My family friends and their parents would always compliment my learning spirits.

Therefore, there was no frustration or shouting from the neighbor kid, who was my mentor those days. Even he used to enjoy my company during those hours. I had no idea when I successfully ahead with my bicycle all by myself. I completed around half of the distance in a straight line. Suddenly, a bee came in front of me and started dancing with its murmur sounds. In the act of hitting it away, I left my right hand from the handle, and the next thing I remember was –falling on the ground.

The first fall

It was more of a shocking thing to notice rather than surprising. I saw that elder brother –he was laughing at me. I got up and cleaned my back body, and rushed to him in anger. Why are you laughing at my fall? To this, he continued his laughter a few more seconds before answering my question.

See, little darling was laughing because you fell. You know, everybody has their first fall while riding their bicycle for the very first time. So, I confused in total asked him –So, that has to end with laughter. It’s also the trend or part of growing up, right?

I was much more of a questioning as well as a curious child. To this, he soberly made me understand. We all have our first fall in our life. Be it, a bicycle ride, a motorcycle ride, a car ride. And each phase has a different method of falling. Only the difference is, you fall off these vehicles, and your injuries are physical and can be cured. But later in life, you will be falling many times, and arising from the same. Those injuries were invisible, remains to you only, nobody will laugh on your face, but secretly at your back. That fall will be affecting your mental life balancing too. So, you must learn to laugh at yourself from the very start. So, that you can stand smiling if life laughs harder on you. You can strongly challenge those life hurdles.

Being at the early stage of my learning journey, I hardly understood his points. I asked my parents with all the broken words and memories of what he said and what he meant. He never explained to me deeply. Now I understood what he meant.

Childhood learning is such an innocent and fabulous memory. You can only relive when you teach the same to a younger one.

I was curious and annoyed with somebody else laughing at my situation. That very brother complimented me. He made me understood the simple fact. There is a first fall of the bicycling ride of everybody whenever they learn. But all had their ways of falling story, very different.

He further said: You quickly managed to run the bicycle on your own without falling. I was skeptical. I said: it’s! It is fine. You do not have to lie to me, just to make me smile. I am learning, and one day I will be perfect at it.

To this, he said: No, not all. I am not lying or boasting about your caliber just because I am getting paid for it. When I left you all by yourself from behind, I was a bit scared. If you fall and get yourself hurt, my first teaching experience would be worst.

But to my cynical sense, you outbound my thinking. You changed my thinking pattern. You were so much passionate about your learning journey. You hardly noticed my touch on your back –vanishing slowly.

My bicycle, a great lesson

In life, whatever we do – we must educate ourselves; know it, be practical at the core. Mugging up is never a solution to any problem.  A replica of reflex action is ultimately seen in every field. He pointed out the directions I covered. He said I am very proud of you. I am not feeling proud because I taught you. I am feeling happy and proud because you made me realize nothing is impossible. If there are any uncertainty of darkened days, there can be the unsure results of rising hopes. You fell because of the bee on your way. But you managed to shock me with trying to balance in the midway. It was the lessons. I was about to teach you after 3 days.

My Bicycle – Essay 2

My bicycle had always been a great source of inspiration, and was the most beautiful part of my childhood as well as teenage. The learning phase is the best phase of life, which not only makes you to learn how to ride a bicycle, but helps to understand many new chapters of life.

The brand new second hand bicycle, used by the elder sibling is the trend in Indian families, similar is the trend in my family . The very first cycle of my life was ‘ Hercules Bravo ’, which was at first used by my elder brother.

The another fashion was; that it was promised that if my brother would get those 98% in his high school then he will get that bicycle of his choice, so my elder brother could manage to get that, cool brand new bicycle, but since was the younger sibling could only manage to get, the one used by the elder one. Therefore’ a cycle is a ‘Mehnnat ka fal’ which most of us get for the very first time in life.

The learning phase of my bicycle

Learning a cycle was one of the biggest fear of my life, I always had to request somebody to teach me how to ride a bicycle, either my brother, my father or anybody whom I found capable enough to teach me, I still remember every time I went to learn with my brother we would always fight, and my brother would say you can never ride a bicycle, and on the way more than learning a bicycle, I would focus on how to get my brother scolded by my father.

Those were the sweetest days, which I believe would never come back in my life again. But the fight was necessary with the brother as he was always regretting, that he is totally wasting his time teaching me how to ride a bicycle, since forced by my father, instead he would have gone out to play with his friends.

My brother had been a great teacher all through my life be it teaching how ride a bicycle, how to drive a car or how to lead a life he always have been the best supportive hero of my life. Every day my eagerness and excitement for evening raised, as in the evening I would go out with my brother to learn my bicycle, but the excitement would melt down like the wax of a candle. As the phase was yet to be a hit.

Well, it gives me great pleasure to describe the real learning phase of my cycle. The blue red cycle, handle like an ear of the elephant, seems too high to hold or too tough to ride. The most difficult part of learning a cycle is maintaining the balance which is further too scary.

Finally the day came when I managed to learn how to ride my cycle. It was my uncle who took this very initiative. He asked me to sit on the cycle and told me that he is holding at back.

And asked me not to look at the back and I trusting him that he is still holding at the back, but actually he was not, and the amazing fact was I knew that he is not holding back and I am riding a cycle, and uncle standing at same place and saying that ‘yes I am holding, go on’ and I am shouting ‘uncle please keep holding’; was something which helped me learn my cycle.

After that for next 10 days I didn’t looked for it was day or night, I kept on riding it all through Old Willingdon Camp, Race Cource. Always wait, if mummy wants something from the shop. When very eagerly going to the shop, eagerly waiting for the evening, so that can go out for cycling.

They were the most innocent days spent by me. The most amazing time spent in my childhood which I know would never come back, but thinking about them is in itself is a great a fun.

Without a fall, learning a bicycle is never complete, so therefore like everybody else the first fall was even more interesting, I in my tomboy look riding my bicycle in my own flayer, a speed breaker came in my way and had a great fall, meanwhile a women came asked me, “beta gir gaya kya, lagi kya”, I was embarrassed enough and said no, and the women was like, “to beta ek bar or gir” and everybody broke into laughter.

My cycle had been a great inspiration of life, firstly how to value things in life, the way I developed the love and attachment even to the second hand cycle, it is very important to value things in life, only than one knows how much it takes to earn a single penny in life.

Learning my cycle was itself a great dream than, and never I never, lose hope that; I won’t be able to ride a bicycle, and yes it was the step towards being independent. Be it going for tuition classes or to the stationary or helping mother at home. A self confidence that there is nothing we can’t do in life, though there will be many hurdles in life, but we need to cross them and achieve our small yet beautiful dreams.

My cycle will always be very close to my heart as it was my first step towards in dependency. And one my sweetest memory of my childhood with my brother. Today after my marriage still when I go back home look towards the store I find many things of my childhood kept safely by my parents in order capture our childhood memories.

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Bicycles Have Evolved. Have We?

By Jill Lepore

My first bicycle was not, in fact, a bicycle. I rode it in 1968, when I was two years old and as tubby as a bear cub. It had four wheels, not two, and no pedals: strictly speaking, it was a scooter. But Playskool called it a Tyke Bike, so I say it qualifies, and aside from the matte-black, aluminum-alloy number that I’ve got now, which is called (by the manufacturer dead seriously, and by me aspirationally) the Bad Boy, the Tyke Bike may be the swankiest bicycle I’ve ever ridden. According to the box, Playskool’s scooter—red and blue and white, with a yellow, leopard-spotted wooden seat, chrome handlebars, and black, white-walled wheels—offered “smart high style” for the “preschool jet set,” as if a little girl in a diaper and a romper were about to scoot along the jetway to board a T.W.A. flight bound for Zurich.

Before being handed down to me, my Tyke Bike, like most of the bicycles in my life, had belonged to my brother, Jack, and to both of my sisters, and, earlier still, to cousins or neighbors or some other family from Our Lady of Good Counsel, whose annual parish sale was where we always got our best stuff, bless the Virgin Mary. By the time I got the Tyke Bike, the paint was scuffed, the leopard spots had worn off, and the white plastic handlebar grips had been yanked off and lost, most likely buried in the back yard by the slobber-jawed neighborhood St. Bernard, a Christmas-present puppy whose name was Jingles and who was eventually run over by a car, like so many dogs on our street, which is another reason more people should ride bikes. I didn’t mind about the missing handlebar grips. I tucked a stuffed bear into my red wagon, tied its rope to my seat post, and scooted down the sidewalk, dragging the wagon behind me, my first bike hack. Far from being a jet-setter, I have always been an unhurried bicyclist, something between deliberate and fretful. Jack, a speed demon and a danger mouse, but above all a gentleman, would wait for me at every telephone pole. Jack and Jill went up the hill , everyone would call out, as we wheeled past. Pbfftttttt , we’d raspberry back.

My current bicycle, the Cannondale Bad Boy, is said to be cloaked in “urban armor,” looks as though it could fight in a regime-changing war, and is built for “traffic-slaying performance.” I like the idea of being redoubtable on a roundabout, Mad Max on a mews, but, in truth, I have never slain any traffic. I have never slain anything. I once knew an old Polish man who called all drivers one of three things—“Cowboy!” “Old Woman!” “Teen-ager!”—which he’d shout out, raging, behind the steering wheel of his station wagon, in a heavily accented growl. I am, and have always been, Old Woman.

The Bad Boy is the only bike I’ve ever bought new. I paid an embarrassing amount of money for it in 2001, to celebrate getting tenure and maybe with the idea that I was finally going to be a badass, that all I needed was this James Dean mean-streets city bike. But, the minute I got it home, I started hacking it, girling it out. I bolted a radio to the handlebars and listened to the news on my ride to work every day—I heard the war on terror unfold on that bicycle—until my friend Bruce told me I’d be exactly seventy-four per cent happier if I listened to music instead. WERS. College radio. Indigo Girls. Dixie Chicks . He was right. For a long time, I had a baby seat strapped onto a rack in the back, molded gray plastic with a blue foam cushion seat and a nylon seat belt. Babies, not to say bad boys, would fall asleep back there, their nodding heads tipped over by the great weight of baby helmets covered in the spikes of a stegosaurus, poking into my back. I steered around potholes, ever so slowly, so as not to jolt them awake. Old Woman.

Bicycles are the workhorses of the world’s transportation system. More people get places by bicycle than by any other means, unless you count walking, which is also good for you, and for the planet, but you can travel four times faster on a bicycle than on foot, using only a fifth the exertion. People all over the world, and especially outside Western Europe and North America, get to school and work, transport goods, cart passengers, and even plow fields with bicycles. In many places, there isn’t any other choice. Bikes are cheap, and easy to fix when they break, especially if you can keep track of your Allen keys and your tire levers. Mine are on the breakfast table, because, at the moment, I have a bike stand in the kitchen. For every car on earth, there are two bikes, one for every four people. (I refuse to count stationary bikes, including Pelotons, since they go nowhere.) “We live on a bicycle planet,” Jody Rosen writes in “ Two Wheels Good: The History and Mystery of the Bicycle ” (Crown), a set of quirky and kaleidoscopic stories. But roads and parking lots and entire cities are still being built for cars, even though they’re wrecking the world. Or, as bicycle advocates would have it, riffing on Orwell’s “Animal Farm,” two wheels good, four wheels bad. Two wheels are better than two wings. In a contest of humans against all other animals in the efficiency of locomotion, humans on foot are about as ungainly, or gainly, as sheep. Condors come in first. But humans on bicycles beat even birds.

A few years back, the bicentennial of the bicycle wheeled past at breakneck, bike-messenger speed. In 1817, Baron Karl von Drais, the Master of the Woods and Forests to the Duke of Baden, invented a contraption called the Laufmaschine , or running machine. A climate crisis had led to a great dying off of livestock, including horses, especially in Germany. Drais meant for the Laufmaschine to be a substitute for the horse. It had a wooden frame, a leather saddle, two in-line wheels, and no pedals; you sort of scooted around on it, and a full-grown man could pick up pretty good speed. (“On descent it equals a horse at full speed,” Drais wrote.) In England, Laufmaschinen were called “swiftwalkers.” My Tyke Bike was a kind of Laufmaschine . I added the wagon, though.

In the history of the bicycle, ontogeny recapitulates phylogeny. Lately, posh toddlers, the newest preschool jet set, roll around on modern swiftwalkers, marketed as “wooden balance bikes.” If you bike all your life, there’s a fair chance you’ll bike the whole history of bicycles. When I was three, I started riding a red metal tricycle, another hand-me-down from my brother. It had a chrome fender in the front, a red running board in the back, and, most crucial, pedals. The cranking of pedals converts downward motion into forward motion, with multiplying force. No one’s quite sure who came up with this idea—most historians place their bets on a French carriage-maker, in 1855—but putting a crank on the axle of the front wheel, with pedals on either side of the hub, changed everything about bicycles, including their name: most people called the ones with pedals “velocipedes,” which is, roughly, Latin for “fast feet.” People expected velocipedes to replace horses. “We think the bicycle an animal, which will, in a great measure, supersede the horse,” one American wrote in 1869. “It does not cost as much; it will not eat, kick, bite, get sick, or die.”

My next bike, the red-and-yellow Big Wheel, had a lot in common with a velocipede known as the penny-farthing, which was invented in the eighteen-seventies. The penny-farthing, like the Big Wheel, had a much bigger wheel in front because, so long as the pedals cranked the front wheel, the bigger the wheel, the faster you could ride. “An ever saddled horse which eats nothing,” a Boston penny-farthing manufacturer promised, boasting speeds of a mile in under three minutes. “The Big Wheels are rolling,” the television ads of my childhood announced, “with the speed you need to win!” Big Wheels came, and they went; they were made of plastic, and mine fell apart during a figure-eight race around a parking lot against the kids next door, when I skidded off course and crashed into a telephone pole. Penny-farthings were dangerous, too: riders pitched right over the top. (The Big Wheel débuted in 1969, and a fiftieth-anniversary edition came out in 2019. “It’s just a really cheap piece of crap,” a reviewer at Walmart.com reported.)

My first two-wheeled bicycle was a Schwinn, hyacinth-purple. My father, who seems to have spent most spring weekends raising and lowering bicycle seats, retrofitted it for me by bolting back on the rickety pair of training wheels that we kept on a shelf in the garage. Aside from the training wheels, everything on that purple Schwinn had been invented by the end of the eighteen-eighties: two wheels of about the same size, pneumatic tires, and pedals that drive the rear wheel by way of a chain and sprockets. This type of bike, in the eighteen-eighties, was marketed as a “safety.” Unlike earlier models, it was surprisingly risk-free, mainly because, even without foot brakes, you could stop the bike by taking your feet off the pedals and skidding to a halt. That, as my mother liked to point out, was how I ruined all my sneakers.

The safety was the prototype of every modern bicycle. Most everything added to the bicycle since is just tinkering around the edges. During the bike craze of the eighteen-nineties, bicycles became an emblem of modernity; they were the epitome, as Paul Smethurst argued in “ The Bicycle: Towards a Global History ” (2015), of “the cult of speed, a lightness of being, a desire for existential freedom and a celebration of the future.” That’s how it felt to me, too, when I first pedalled away from home, without my training wheels, all on my own. My favorite bike ever, though, was my next bike, my sister’s Sears knockoff of the Schwinn Sting-Ray. It had a green banana seat with glitter in the vinyl, monkey handlebars, and a sissy bar, which I had always understood to be the place where little sisters were supposed to sit. I added rainbow-colored covers to the spokes and rode to school, the library, the candy store, hitching my bike to posts with a combination lock attached to a cable as thin as yarn. No one ever stole it.

To ride a bike, Rosen points out, is to come as close to flying by your own power as humans ever will. No part of you touches the ground. You ride on air. Not for nothing were Orville and Wilbur Wright bicycle manufacturers when they first achieved flight, in Kitty Hawk, in 1903. Historically, that kind of freedom has been especially meaningful to girls and women. Bicycling, Susan B. Anthony said in 1896, “has done more to emancipate women than anything else in the world.” I’ve always had a sneaking feeling that, somehow, I owe it to feminism to pedal hard, weave through traffic, crave speed, curse at cars. A guy in my neighborhood wears a T-shirt that reads “Cyclopath.” In my mind’s eye, I’m that guy. Instead, I stop at yellow lights and smile at strangers, gushing with good will, giddy just to be out there.

Bicycles and bicyclists veer to the political left. Environmentalists ride bicycles. American suffragists rode bicycles. So did English socialists, who called the bicycle “the people’s nag.” Animal-welfare activists, who opposed the whipping of horses, favored bicycles. In 1896, the American preacher who coined the expression “What Would Jesus Do?” had this to say about bicycles: “I think Jesus might ride a wheel if He were in our place, in order to save His own strength and the beast of burden.” But bicycles have also been used in warfare on six continents, and were favored by colonial officials during the age of empire. After the League of American Wheelmen started the Good Roads Movement, in 1880, the asphalt that paved the roads for bicyclists was mined in Trinidad, and the rubber for tires came from the Belgian Congo and the Amazon basin.

For a while, starting in the eighteen-nineties, the bicycle seemed likely to finally beat out the horse. Aside from not needing to be fed and not dying, bicycles are also quieter and cleaner than horses, something I thought a lot about as a kid, because I had a job mucking out stables. But then along came the automobile. “There are some who claim the automobile will replace the bicycle, but this is rank nonsense,” a Maine magazine reported in 1899. “Those who have become attached to their bicycles—there are several millions of bicycle riders—will not easily give up the pleasure of skimming along the country like a bird . . . for the more doubtful delight of riding in the cumbersome, ill-smelling automobile.”

In 1899, 1.2 million bicycles were sold in the United States. Henry Ford’s Model T made its début in 1908. The next year, only a hundred and sixty thousand bicycles were sold in the U.S. In the absence of bike lanes, cyclists in all states but one have to follow the rules of something known as the Uniform Vehicle Code, first adopted in 1926. Like jaywalking, a crime invented by the automobile industry to criminalize being a pedestrian, the U.V.C. treats bicycles as cars that go too slow. “It shall be unlawful for any person unnecessarily to drive at such a slow speed as to impede or block the normal and reasonable movement of traffic,” the U.V.C. decreed in 1930. E. B. White was among those who protested, calling for “a network of permanent bicycle paths.” (Many paths were built under the direction of Robert Moses .) “A great many people have now reached forty years of age in this country, despite all the handicaps,” White wrote in this magazine in 1933, when he was thirty-four, “and they are the ones who specially enjoy bicycling, the men being somewhat elated on discovering that they can still ride no hands.” In 1944, in what became known as the Far to the Right law, the U.V.C. stated that “any person operating a bicycle upon a roadway shall ride as near to the right side of the roadway as practicable,” which could mean being driven off the road.

By the nineteen-fifties, when the League of American Wheelmen disbanded and bicycles were excluded from many roads (including all of the new federal highway system), bikes had been reinvented as toys, child’s play. Grownups drove cars; kids rode bikes. Girls were supposed to ride girls’ bikes, although when, at age twelve, I inherited a girl’s three-speed Raleigh, I decided I hated girls’ bikes. Twelve was when I first started to see clearly the price you had to pay for being a girl, the vulnerability, and right about then I got more scared of cars, too. A boy in my sixth-grade class was killed riding his bike home from school. I covered the frame of that feckless three-speed Raleigh with black duct tape, to make it meaner. It’s bad enough being powerless, because of being a kid and, on top of it all, a girl; it’s worse when the adults are riding around in cages made of three tons of metal. It felt then, and still feels now, like being a bird flying in a sky filled with airplanes: the deafening roar of their engines, their impossible speed, the cruelty of steel, the inescapable menace, the looming sense of catastrophe, your own little wings flapping in silence while theirs slice thunderously. Black duct tape is no defense, and no disguise, but it was all I could find in the kitchen drawer.

The first time I was ever hit by a car, I was riding home from school on a robin’s-egg-blue Fuji ten-speed. I’d painted it polka-dot, strapped a milk crate to the back rack, and duct-taped a transistor radio to the crate, so I could listen to Red Sox games. Maybe I was distracted: ninth inning, pitching change. I don’t remember. A station wagon hit me from behind; I broke its windshield, bounced off the hood, and tumbled onto the road, into oncoming traffic. I remember lying on the pavement, unable to move, watching a truck heading straight at me. Swerving to avoid me, it ran over my bike. A few minutes after I was taken away in an ambulance, my father happened to be driving by, on his way home from work, and saw my unmistakable polka-dot bike on the side of the road, its frame crushed and mangled, the milk crate and the transistor radio smashed. He fainted at the wheel and nearly crashed, too.

I’ve been hit more times since—doored, mainly, though that’s enough to cost you your life if you fall into traffic. J. K. Rowling’s left stiletto once nearly ended me; she swung open the door of a stretch limo and stepped out, pelican-legged, just as I was cruising by. I veered into traffic to avoid running over her foot and almost got mowed down by a bus. It doesn’t matter how cautious you are on a bike. Cars and trucks can kill you just by bumping into you. People in my city are killed by trucks every year. After my first crash, my mother made me get a helmet. Jack, by then, had started fixing up cars. Sheet metal, rivets, Rust-Oleum, body wax, timing belts. He gave me his last bike, even though it was way too tall for me. I painted it and took it to college, where I got hit on College Avenue.

The biggest bicycle boom in American history, after the one in the eighteen-nineties, took place in the nineteen-seventies, even before the gas crisis. On the first Earth Day, April 22, 1970, bicycling activists staged protests all over the country. In San Jose, they buried a Ford. Later, in Chicago, they held a “pedal-in.” Bike sales rose from nine million in 1971 to fourteen million in 1972, and more than half of those sales were to adults. Time announced a national bicycle shortage. “Look Ma, No Cars” was the motto of the New York-based group Action Against Automobiles in 1972. “Give Mom a Bike Lane,” a placard read at a bike-in rally in San Francisco that year. The following year, as Carlton Reid reported in “ Bike Boom: The Unexpected Resurgence of Cycling ” (2017), more than two hundred pieces of bike legislation, including proposals to establish bike lanes, were introduced in forty-two states. In 1972, 1973, and 1974, bicycles outsold cars. Within a few years, though, the automobile lobby had bulldozed its way through state legislatures, and most proposals for bicycle infrastructure had been abandoned; by the time I was in college, in the nineteen-eighties, the boom was at an end.

Not for me. I biked through every last bicycle fad, with the same abandon with which, at age nine, I saved up S & H Green Stamps to buy a unicycle. In the nineteen-nineties, I got a used mountain bike. I traded it in for a hybrid. In London, I bought a folding bike. When I got married, my husband and I rented a tandem, and then decided to keep it. When our oldest kids were toddlers, we hitched a trailer to the rear wheel, and attached a construction-orange flag to the trailer, to wave a warning to cars, a prayer. Our family of bicycles kept growing. Today, two unicycles hang from hooks in our bike shed, relics of another bike-fanatic child.

The latest bicycle boom began with the pandemic. In March of 2020, New York City declared bicycle-repair shops “essential businesses.” Pop-up bicycle lanes opened in cities all over the world. Roads were closed to cars and opened for bicycles. In the U.S., more than half the bicyclists riding for the first time during the pandemic, or returning to it, were women. More people riding bikes meant more bicycle accidents—the rate of them doubled. More than a quarter of cars that hit and killed bicyclists left them there to die alone. Bike lanes, bike shares, new bike-safety laws: the rate of bicycle fatalities keeps going up all the same. Cars and trucks refuse to yield. The bike boom of the pandemic, Rosen argues, was a lot like the worldwide rewilding. Bears on street corners, cougars on cul-de-sacs, bicycles on highways. These things happened. Briefly.

“Traffic, for all intents and purposes, is back to about 2019 levels,” the head of highways in my state declared in June of 2021. The cars came back. By the end of that year, the bicycle boom had gone bust. “I don’t think a lot of Americans are aware . . . how far behind we are on bicycle and pedestrian safety,” Pete Buttigieg, the U.S. Secretary of Transportation, said. Republicans warned, “Democrats are coming for your cars.” No one is coming for your cars.

Meanwhile, I am avoiding the inevitable e-bike. I still ride my very, very old Bad Boy, slowpoke and getting slower every year, towing a trailer to carry books, a radio bolted to the handlebars, rusting. ♦

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• Kids Learning
• Class 2 Essay
• Class 2 Bicycle Essay

Bicycle Essay for Class 2 Students

Writing a bicycle essay for Class 2 offers a golden opportunity for a second grader to express their views and emotions about the vehicle that is used on a daily basis. Kids love to exhibit their writing skills, and here, they get an opportunity to communicate their thoughts and express their love for bicycles in the most creative manner.

Given below is a short bicycle essay for Class 2 kids. We hope this essay about a bicycle will give a better idea to kids, when they are asked to write a few lines on this topic. You can download the 10 lines bicycle essay in PDF format from the link provided below.

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Bicycle Essay for Class 2 Kids

• I have a beautiful bicycle, which is pink in colour.
• My bicycle is just 3 months old, and I enjoy riding it regularly.
• My father gifted me this beautiful bicycle on my birthday.
• The body of the bicycle is made of steel, and the tyres are made of rubber.
• I keep my bicycle neat and tidy by cleaning it with a piece of cloth every day.
• Initially, I used to fall down often while balancing myself on the cycle.
• My father taught me how to ride it smoothly as he used to hold it from behind while I was riding it.
• I can ride it comfortably now while going to or coming from school every day.
• Cycling is a great exercise which helps in keeping me healthy.
• I love my bicycle and will continue to ride it as I grow older.

Liked the above-mentioned bicycle essay for Class 2 kids? Explore a huge collection of fresh content on various resources like NCERT Solutions, GK Questions, Class 2 essays on other topics , poems, stories, easy trivia questions for kids in our Kids Learning section and lots more.

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Essay on Unforgettable Childhood Memories

Students are often asked to write an essay on Unforgettable Childhood Memories in their schools and colleges. And if you’re also looking for the same, we have created 100-word, 250-word, and 500-word essays on the topic.

Let’s take a look…

100 Words Essay on Unforgettable Childhood Memories

My first bicycle ride.

I will never forget the day I learned to ride a bike. It was a bright, sunny morning. My dad held the back of the seat, running beside me. Suddenly, he let go, and I was riding on my own. The wind in my hair and the feeling of freedom were incredible. It was a moment of pure joy and achievement.

Building a Treehouse

Another unforgettable memory is building a treehouse with my best friend. We found old wood and borrowed tools from our parents. It took us days, but seeing our finished treehouse was amazing. It was our secret hideout for years.

Family Holidays

Family holidays were always special. Whether it was a trip to the beach or camping in the mountains, these times brought us closer. The excitement of exploring new places, the laughter, and the stories shared around a campfire are cherished memories. These moments made my childhood unforgettable.

250 Words Essay on Unforgettable Childhood Memories

Defining childhood memories.

Childhood memories are those special moments and experiences that shape and stay with us throughout our lives. They are like treasured photographs that help us relive the innocence and joy of being a child. These memories can range from simple everyday moments to extraordinary events that leave a lasting impression on our young minds.

A Tapestry of Moments

Every childhood is unique, and so are the memories that come with it. Some common themes that often emerge include family gatherings, holidays, playing with friends, exploring the outdoors, learning new things, and experiencing laughter and love. These moments may seem ordinary at the time, but they weave together to create a rich tapestry of memories that define our childhood.

Nostalgia and Reflection

As we grow older, the memories of our childhood often take on a nostalgic glow. We may find ourselves reminiscing about the past, longing for the simpler days when the world seemed full of wonder and possibility. Reflecting on these memories can bring a sense of comfort, warmth, and inspiration. They remind us of where we came from and the people who helped shape our lives.

Lessons Learned

Childhood memories are not just about fun and laughter. They also play a crucial role in teaching us valuable lessons about life. Through our experiences, we learn about friendship, empathy, resilience, and the importance of family and community. These lessons help us grow and develop as individuals and guide us as we navigate the challenges and joys of adulthood.

Unforgettable childhood memories are a precious gift that we carry with us throughout our lives. They are the foundation of our identity and the source of our strength and resilience. By cherishing and reflecting on these memories, we can stay connected to our inner child and the joy and wonder that comes with it.

500 Words Essay on Unforgettable Childhood Memories

Childhood: a time of wonder and adventure.

Childhood is a time of wonder and adventure, a time when the world is new and everything is possible. It is a time of laughter and joy, of friendship and exploration. It is a time that we will never forget.

The First Day of School

One of the most unforgettable childhood memories is the first day of school. This is the day when we leave the safety of home and venture out into the big, wide world. We meet new teachers, make new friends, and learn new things. It is a day that is both exciting and scary, but it is also a day that we will never forget.

Summer Vacations

Summer vacations are another unforgettable childhood memory. This is the time when we have no school and can spend our days playing with our friends, going on adventures, and exploring the world around us. We can swim in the pool, play in the park, or go on a road trip. These are the days that we will remember for the rest of our lives.

Family Vacations

Family vacations are also unforgettable childhood memories. This is the time when we get to spend time with our loved ones and create memories that will last a lifetime. We can go to the beach, the mountains, or the amusement park. We can play games, go for hikes, or just relax and enjoy each other’s company. These are the moments that we will cherish forever.

Friendships

Friendships are an important part of childhood. Friends are the people who make us laugh, cry, and everything in between. They are the people who we can always count on, no matter what. They are the people who make childhood so special.

Childhood is a time of wonder, adventure, laughter, and joy. It is a time that we will never forget. The memories that we make during childhood will stay with us for the rest of our lives. They will shape who we are as people and they will help us to remember the magic of being a child.

That’s it! I hope the essay helped you.

If you’re looking for more, here are essays on other interesting topics:

• Essay on Unforgettable Birthday
• Essay on Unethical Behavior In The Workplace
• Essay on Understanding Culture Society And Politics

Apart from these, you can look at all the essays by clicking here .

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Essay – how i learned to ride a bicycle.

How I learned to ride a bicycle

I can still remember it as if it happened yesterday. I must have been seven or eight years old when I rode my first bicycle, and the day I learned to ride my bike is very memorable to me. Learning how to ride a bicycle can be exciting as well as painful. But I found it really exciting indeed. I was starting to realize that all of the other kids where riding two-wheelers, and I was the only one still riding a small bike with those ridiculous training wheels. I felt that it was time for me to make a transition from training wheels to a “big kid” bike.

It was my sister who taught me how to ride a bicycle “The training wheels are coming off today” was the first thing she said at the breakfast table. Mom just finished a batch of her secret ingredient blue berry pancakes with butter on top. Walking outside that morning I can remember how sunny it was and how there wasn’t a cloud in the sky. It was a bright warm day and the perfect summer day.  Everyone seemed to be enjoying the afternoon.

She and I went to the park to see what we could do there. There was nobody in the park when we arrived. My sister brought her bicycle and told me to sit on it and place my feet on the pedals. The bike was a blue, white seated two wheeler that had a basket in the front. The event stuck in my head because it was the first thing I can remember my sister and I doing together.

“Pedal slowly!”, she advised me while she held the bicycle and ran slowly along.

The road on which I was learning was smooth. My sister was holding the rear of the seat to make sure I wouldn’t fall. She assured me that I was not going to fall because she would be running right behind, holding the bicycle. She reassured me by saying that it was the word of a sister and I could trust it.

“You’re gonna do great!”, she said.

My sister was kind. She spent several hours trying to teach me how to ride. She did not let go of the bicycle even once. I was indeed very much excited at this opportunity to learn how to ride a bicycle. I thanked my sister for her kindness and patience. By the time I got the hang of it, the sun was going down so she said we could continue tomorrow on the stopping. At dinner my mom cooked my favorite foods, because of the hard work I put in.

The next day, again, my sister took me to a road. I started to pedal and the bicycle moved. Once it started to move, I felt pedaling was much easier than I remembered.

“Would it be as easy to ride the bicycle without you holding on it?”, I asked.

She did not answer me because she couldn’t run, hold the bycicle, and talk at the same time. Or this is what I thought. In a few seconds, I will have known the reason for her silence, but for the time being  I told her we could stop if she was tired. Again, she did not reply. I turned to see if she was feeling O.K. I saw her, except she wasn’t where I expected her to be. She was about fifty yards away from where I was. Suddenly, I felt quite giddy. I was scared to death that I was going to fall and hurt myself. When I was scared, my mind went blank from peddling, and I just wanted off. I forgot how to use the brakes, lost control and fell right off the bike.  I cried but no one looked at me because…well…no one was there.

She ran over and said she let me go because she could no longer keep up. After I was done crying, she told me there was nothing more she could teach me,  that I had learned enough. I only needed some practice now. I was extremely happy to hear this. She said that if I could ride it the way I rode it for that fifty yards, I had no problems.

I practiced for a few more hours and I was getting pretty good. But it was painful, for I fell several times and received some cuts on my hands and legs. My sister, however, told me not to lose heart. Soon I found that I could pedal some distance without falling. My sister told me I was the fastest learner that she had ever seen. I told her that she was the best teacher that I’d ever met. We came home hand in hand as if we were best cronies.

Not long after, dad bought me a brand new bicycle. It was neon-red! As soon as I set my eyes on my own bicycle I fell in love with it. I nurtured the bicycle like a baby, replacing all the worn cables, carefully oiling all the necessary parts, aligning the brakes.

A few days ago, I took a ride with my sister and had all the memories back. When I think of those times, one of my most memorable childhood experiences would definitely be learning to ride a bike. Almost every child will encounter this event in some period of their lifetime, and will actually discover a great deal from it.

This event not only represents freedom for me, but it also helped me establish the foundation on which I base my existence. Learning to ride a two-wheeler demonstrated a new way to have fun, and also illustrates how will-power and perseverance help overcome challenges throughout life: “Life is like riding a bicycle. To keep your balance, you must keep moving.”(Albert Einstein)

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Your a great writer

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Ride. A very much willing, i rode a bike for the use of riding a bike riding a bike.

21 essay. Get More Info

Please give your feedback on the day i will introduce another hobby, considering the following essay sample. In this year. So that my planet: remembering the old when i was presented with the day i asked if i could ride my first. In this year.

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My First Bicycle Experience

• Word count: 345
• Category: Bicycle Experiences

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Learning how to ride a real bicycle was a nerve wracking moment. * I woke up one sunny morning to find my grandpa sitting on the edge of my bed. I was curious as to what he was doing there, but then grew excited when he informed me that I was ready to learn how to ride a bike without any training wheels. I had been riding with training wheels for almost a year and felt like I was ready to take the next step in growing up.

Even though I had some doubt, my grandpa and I went outside and took the little wheels off my bike. Following my bike’s transformation, it was time for the big moment. I was nervous because I had always been dependent on those two training wheels.

Was I actually ready? Could I do this on my own?

* With butterflies in my stomach, I slowly got on the bike. One shaky hand gripped one of the handles tightly, while the other held on to my grandpa’s arm for moral support. I was determined to ride this bike on my own, so with a little push from my grandpa, I started to peddle. My heart pounded as the bike’s acceleration increased. The bike was wobbly and manoeuvred in a zigzag pattern, and I barely managed to keep control. *

* But slowly, I learnt how to maintain my balance. * Once I had grasped the basic understanding of riding a bike I was going around the park on my own. I was ecstatic – I had finally achieved my goal! The adrenaline was still pumping and I kept peddling faster and faster. My surroundings became blurry and all I could hear was the wind whistling past my ears.

* Then suddenly, I was lying on the ground. * Apparently I had lost control of the bike due to my excessive speed and had tumbled onto the concrete? I will never forget the exhilarating moment and growing up stage of riding a bike without training wheels.

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Cinematic, Undiscovered, Cilento

In this less-traveled region of Italy, the scenery is spectacular, the water wine-dark. It has sun and sea, along with important Greek ruins, wild nature, curious legends and medieval religious sanctuaries.

The baroque Certosa di Padula, a former monastery and one of the largest in Europe, was inhabited by monks who kept a vow of silence. Credit... Francesco Lastrucci for The New York Times

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By Nina Burleigh

• May 21, 2024

From a piazza in the town of Castellabate on the Cilento coast of Italy, you may lift your eyes over the rim of your cappuccino and drink in a panorama of sky and Mediterranean Sea from Salerno to the Gulf of Policastro. Looking way, way down, a fruited plain of vineyards, lemon trees and white fig stretches to the flanks of green mountains decked with wisps of vapor.

Standing at the same point in 1811, Napoleon’s brother in law, appointed King of Naples in the early 19th century, uttered words that the town has engraved on its town hall: “Qui no si muore.” Roughly, Here you do not die.

Of course, people do die in the Cilento, a region south of the Amalfi Coast. But they also live longer than most, thanks to the Mediterranean Diet, first studied in these parts. It is more accurate to say that here, eternal life is a more appealing proposition.

Last spring, I decided to explore Italy’s second largest national park, the Cilento, Vallo di Diano and Alburni National Park, which encompasses both sea and mountains, and its environs, on foot. I made the town of Acciaroli my home base, from an Airbnb with a bedroom window that opened on the port. My goal was to “staccare la spina,” or unplug, in Italian. It was early May, no summer crowds. At dawn, cooing doves and trilling Eurasian blackbirds woke me. I swam in the cold, silvery bay, grabbed a caffe macchiato at one of the port bars, donned hiking boots and, armed with a guidebook called “Secret Campania,” and a trekking app called Komoot , set off in my rented manual Fiat Panda.

One of the great things about Italy, for non-Italians anyway, is how easily one slides into the sense of being in a movie. Driving the Via Bacco e Cerere east from the sea into the Alburni mountain, downshifting up switchbacks with puffy clouds casting shadows on towering white cliffs, I felt like Ms. James Bond.

The scenery is cinematic, the views spectacular, the water wine-dark, but the Cilento is not as internationally popular as the Italian playgrounds of Capri and Positano. It is a rather well-kept secret. Here the same sun and sea can be had at a fraction of the cost, along with important Greek ruins, wild nature, curious legends and medieval religious sanctuaries.

Americans are rare in these parts. Many of the residents don’t speak English. A raffish vibe appeals to a certain type: Ernest Hemingway hung out with fishermen around here. After World War II, the American Army doctor Ancel Keys stumbled into the region, bought an old villa and devoted his life to studying the salubrious effects on the heart of a diet of olive oil, fish and fresh vegetables. There’s a museum devoted to the Mediterranean Diet he made famous in the fishing hamlet of Pioppi.

It has been wild country for a long, long time. After the fall of Rome, the coastal populations here dwindled. Wild boar, wolves and bear retook the mountains. In the Middle Ages, Christian hermits and monks moved in. Long into the 19th century, the region retained a savage reputation. Local criminals became heroic “Briganti” during fighting over the unification of Italy, then formed the mafia that has run southern Italy since.

The Italic warrior tribe Lucani were the first recorded inhabitants of the Cilento (the name comes from the Latin “Cis Alentum,” meaning the other side of the Alentum River, which flows through Campania). Ancient Greeks colonized the coast, and their stupendous Doric temples at Paestum, which inspired writers like Goethe and 18th-century architects across Europe, are among the best preserved in the Mediterranean. The museum in the ancient city of Paestum displays Lucanian tomb paintings, paint still bright, mute testaments to the mystery of a gone religion involving sphinxes, female guides to the underworld and male warriors.

Buffalo country

My trekking plan always had an ulterior motive: to justify gorging on Cilento food and wine. The region produces some of the finest basics of Italian cuisine. Extra virgin olive oil obtained from oak-sized trees; fresh seafood; homemade pasta and sauces; buffalo, cow and goat cheeses; and of course pizza, all washed down with the local rosso .

The road to Paestum is lined with shops selling mozzarella from the milk of Asian buffalo, possibly first introduced to Italy by the Greeks. On a rainy afternoon, I joined a tour of the Tenuta Vannulo , an organic mozzarella farm, where men in white coats transformed milk from 200 buffalo into creamy balls of cheese beloved by foodies everywhere. The farm itself is mechanized to a crazy extent: The animals are trained to voluntarily enter a self-serve Swedish-made milking machine. After six minutes they exit to a reward of forage and an automated buffalo massage machine.

The Cilento and Vallo di Diano Park covers 699 square miles of beaches, cliffs, emerald vales, river gorges and mountain meadows, with plenty of well-marked trails. I walked about five miles a day in different zones of the park. I regretted that I didn’t have time to cycle just a leg of the 373-mile “via Silente” bike path that circuits the park with nightly stops at various hamlets.

I started my hiking along the water. A sinuous, rutted coastal road links the fishing towns of the Cilento coast and a knee-high guardrail is all that lies between a car and hundreds of feet of air above the sea. The cliffs inspired tales of nymphs who seduced sailors to come close to the rocks where they shipwrecked. If the sailors didn’t respond, the nymphs would dash themselves on the rocks for unrequited love.

An easy, flat walk from the port of San Marco Castellabate, through olive trees and native Mediterranean shrubs, leads to the site of one of the mermaid legends, Punta Licosa. Leukosia was one of three sirens who, in “The Odyssey,” tried to enchant Ulysses and his men. The great voyager had his men stuff their ears with wax and he tied himself to the mast to resist their song. For failing to seduce the sailors, the sea god Poseidon turned Leukosia into the rocky cliff that bears a version of her name.

A trickier walk, over a steep rock path, led up from the bay at Palinuro, a town of countless gelaterias and restaurants that in summer mostly serve vacationing Italians, around a mountain to a point overlooking the Grotta Azzura (blue grotto), a major draw for cave divers.

Often enough, I had trouble finding trail heads despite Komoot (which kept me on course once I started). One afternoon I wandered for two hours in a light rain around a hilltop hamlet called Ogliastro Cilento, seeking in vain the entrance to an evocative-sounding walk called Sentiero dell’Albero Centenario (path of the 100-year-old trees). I never found it, but I did wander several miles through olive groves, trailed for part of the way by two friendly farm dogs.

A valley of orchids

Deeper in the Alburni range, the hamlet of Sassano, an assemblage of biscuit-colored houses with red roofs planted on the flank of Monte San Giacomo, is the gateway to the Vallee dell Orchidee. In May, more than 100 species of wild orchids bloom in a microclimate. A few miles of easy walking wound through an astonishing spectacle of tiny pink, yellow, red and purple blossoms on single stems. These rare flowers proliferated like common dandelions as far as the eye could see.

I got lost driving to Sassano and pulled over at a caffe bar. A row of middle-aged men sat in a line of chairs under the awning in the morning sun like a 1940s photograph. This was Teggiano, my “Secret Campania” guidebook informed me, built around a medieval fortress with 25 towers, and home of one of the more peculiar Cilento legends: During a monthslong siege in the 15th century, Teggiano women supposedly breastfed soldiers to keep them vigorous.

On a plateau deep in the mountains, beyond a maze of farm roads, the baroque Certosa di Padula , a former monastery and one of the largest in Europe, is almost as unbelievable as the opera house in Werner Herzog’s “Fitzcarraldo.” Among its hidden gems is a library with a self-supporting spiral staircase from the 15th century and an 18th-century glazed earthenware floor in blue and emerald green.

For five centuries, Carthusian monks lived and died here, after committing to silent, solitary lives. They only spoke once a week, on Sunday walks in the woods. On the Sunday I visited, the compound was ringing with Italian families enjoying a sunny afternoon outing. Laughing children played hide and seek in the shadows of arched arcades while elders sipped espresso and Aperol spritzes at tables nearby.

The Certosa is not Padula’s only tour-worthy attraction:the Joe Petrosino House Museum honors the life of a hero New York police officer, Joe Petrosino. An Italian emigrant who grew up in New York City, he fought the mafia in the mid 20th century, and died in Italy when he came over to collar a New York mafia boss and was assassinated by the villains.

During my five days in the Cilento, I did not staccare la spina entirely: I lived by my navigational apps, Google translate, a birdcall identifier, and of course my iPhone playlist. But I returned to Rome in muddy shoes, with a sweatshirt that retained the scent of the buffalo farm and a new appreciation for the backcountry of the pulchra terra that is Italy.

Follow New York Times Travel on Instagram and sign up for our weekly Travel Dispatch newsletter to get expert tips on traveling smarter and inspiration for your next vacation. Dreaming up a future getaway or just armchair traveling? Check out our 52 Places to Go in 2024 .

An earlier version of this article included an incorrect translation of the Italian word caseificio. It means cheese factory, not homemade.

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