We all have something in our lives that is a symbol of freedom, a symbol of a simple joy unfettered by worry. It takes different forms depending upon the person. For me it was my red bike. When I was younger I remember riding up and down my street; riding so fast I would get tears in my eyes. When I was on my red bike I knew that no one could catch me. It was then that I really started to explore my neighborhood and ever since I have had a love of exploring new places. But like most things from that time, the red bike faded into the background of more important things. It grew tarnished and faded, and was eventually put into the storage shed. Now years later when I have so much else to worry about; I find myself thinking of that red bike. And every now and again I take that red bike out of its storage shed, and just enjoy the memories of a golden summer long past.