Of all my wonderful Harbor memories, one popped out. It was one of the many times Billy Carlton and I rode (and pushed) our "summer bikes" to the top of the Bear Pit Road. Not that the bikes we rode at the Harbor were less sleek or more nimble that bikes we had back home... All bikes in those days seemed to weigh about 70 pounds. We rode and we pushed. And we FLEW on the way down the hill.
The special memory is when on one "run", bent low over the bars screaming down the hill, Mama Bear ambled out into the road ahead of us. As we came closer, she went into the bush, and we rolled by. Scared but dying to tell our story to the next person we saw.
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