I have a fondness for bicycle safety flags. My first two-wheeler had one from my Grandma Travis with my name painted in black. I seem to recall that being the first instance of being called "Mike." Only so many letters will fit on one of those flags, after all. I guess I grew up to a two-wheeled vehicle and my commonly used adult name at the same time. That bike had solid rubber tires, rather than inner tubes, and it was purple metal flake with white trim. It had training wheels, which were raised up off the street in no time, soon to be removed entirely. I still remember getting accustomed to my Dad holding the seat, then looking back to find he was watching me ride away from several yards back. I've been pedaling ever since.