A Childhood Story; Old Memories

I remember pedal pushers. I remember riding my bicycle in pedal pushers. I remember being embarrassed about my bicycle.
My best (and only) friend Nancy had just gotten a brand new Schwinn bicycle, the newest style, shiny blue and white, with balloon tires and bright chrome fenders....and it was a girl's bicycle. I, of course, was jealous, so my Dad found me a "new" bicycle, larger than Nancy's and sleeker, the racing type, the precursor to a 3-speed, with skinny tires and a skinny frame. It was a boy's bicycle with no fenders...and previously well used. My Dad tried to fix it up for me, so he painted it bright red. I should have been thrilled with the bike, because it was way ahead of its time, but in truth, I was still jealous of Nancy's new bike, and secretly ashamed of my beat up, but newly painted one. The bigger truth is that I was always jealous of Nancy, who had everything I ever wanted.....thick brown ringlets, large dark eyes, straight A, attention from boys, picked first for the teams, and mostly a huge amount of confidence and self-importance.
When we were about 10 years old, we had seen a bicycle built for two. We used to sing at the top of our lungs as we rode our bikes, (here you can sing along too)..."Daisy, Daisy, give me your answer, do.......on a bicycle built for two." So, I guess it was inevitable that we would use our imaginations.
One day, Nancy and I, in our never ending quest of determining "What shall we do today?" decided to build our own Bicycle-Built-for-Two. Since my bike had no fenders, we figured we could remove my front tire and remove her back fender, and place my front forked frame over her back tire. I got my Dad's tools, and between the two of us, we managed to loosen the bolts on my front tire and remove it, Then somehow we got her back fender off, placed my forked frame over her back tire and bolted it on. I can't imagine now how we did it, but, voila, we were quite resourceful in those days.
Well, we were satisfied, and in fact, proud of our accomplishment. All we had to do now was get on the bike and sing to the tops of our lungs, :Daisy, Daisy" while we sailed down the street. She hopped on her beautiful blue Schwinn, I hoped on my red racer, and we pushed off together.
O.K. the thing we had not foreseen, though, was that the forked prongs from my front wheel were not only attached to her back tire, but were directly connected to my steering apparatus----the handle bars. By slightly turning my handle bars for balance, I could flip Nancy off of her bike. Instead of the front person having control, which Nancy always insisted on, I could tip her over within seconds, which I did numerous times in our attempts at going more that 20 feet. I wonder now if I secretly took great pleasure in the few moments of control I had, before she adamantly insisted that we dismantle our wonderfully creative contraption, and give her back her gorgeous, better than mine, bicycle, so she could once again be in control. Oh, the adventures of youth and naivete, eh?
Nancy and I had many (mis)adventures on our bikes in our pedal pushers.
Sometimes I marvel that I lived to tell the tales.
Love to all.