Wind in My Face
A childhood on two wheels, a Stage 4 diagnosis, and the long way back to the road.
My First Bike…
My first bike had high handlebars and a banana seat. I was seven years old, completely unsafe, and delivering thousands of newspapers with the wind in my face. I loved everything about it. But as the decades passed, life intervened, and that childhood sense of absolute freedom faded into the background. Then, at 55 years old, I sat in a sterile doctor's office and heard the scariest word a person can ever hear: Cancer.
It was a diagnosis that eventually put me through surgery, radiation, and lifelong treatment that stole my energy and anchored me to the couch. But it was also the catalyst that forced me to look backward, remembering the boy on the banana seat, to figure out how to live forward.
Long before that doctor's office, my love affair with two-wheeled locomotion grew. At thirteen, I upgraded to my first ten-speed bike, bought at a local shop just outside of Boston. That bike was the very definition of freedom. That summer, two friends and I pushed our limits, riding sixty miles one way to camp overnight on Cape Cod before riding all the way back the next day.
By the time I reached university in upstate New York, the obsession had fully taken hold. Joining the Outing Club led to my first Century ride—one hundred grueling, unforgettable miles up and down the Adirondack Mountains. Every mile carved that love of the open air deeper into my soul.
At twenty-five, I married the love of my life, Karen. Soon, our cycling adventure expanded. We rode matching bikes, eventually with our daughters kicking me in the back from their rear-rack kiddie seats. They quickly learned to love taking in the sights as we conquered the hills and back roads of our little town. Later, when one of those daughters needed foot surgery right before her taekwondo black belt test, her Sensei swapped out her five-mile run requirement for a fifty-mile no-impact bike ride. Off we went to train, spinning down and back along a local fourteen-mile rail trail until she crushed it.
Life Just Happened…
As the years rolled on, the vibrant life I'd built on two wheels slowly began to quiet. Between building a career and raising our daughters, my once-essential rides were replaced by the beautiful, busy noise of a growing family. I didn't know why, and I couldn't point to exactly when, but the cycling just ... left. I often told myself, "Life just happened," unaware that life was about to happen in a much more jarring way.
The initial shock of that word, Cancer, was followed by even heavier labels: Stage 4. Metastatic.
That was nearly nine years ago. Today, at 63, I am in lifelong treatment. While I am grateful to still be breathing, treatment is a thief—it completely sucks your energy and drops your metabolism to zero. Since that diagnosis, I've gained sixty pounds, and for years, I believed my days of feeling the wind in my face were permanently behind me.
I sat on the couch, day after day, quietly closing my eyes and trying to summon the memory of that childhood breeze. I never spoke about it, but the longing was always there. Then, one random afternoon, Karen looked over at me from her spot on the couch.
"I've been thinking about eBikes," she said simply.
I was stunned. I didn't even know she knew they existed. Little did she know, I had been secretly scrolling through eBike reviews on my phone for months, too afraid to hope they could get me moving again. But when the iron is hot, you must strike. I dove into six months' worth of research in just three days, trying to find a bike that would let me pedal through my degraded physical condition.
I needed something that felt like a traditional road bike but had the heart of a motor to help me conquer the country roads and multi-use trails I once loved.
Wind, Community, and Second Chances…
The transition from the couch back to the world was slow but steady. In August 2025, just ten months ago, my gray and black Velotric Discover 2 arrived. At first, it was just about finding that familiar feeling again—the simple, visceral pleasure of the wind in my face. I started small, finding my rhythm on the long, flat stretches of the East Bay Bike Path. Riding from East Providence to Bristol, with the coastal breeze coming off Narragansett Bay and the Providence skyline at my back, I felt a sense of control I thought I'd lost forever.
But then, something unexpected happened. For decades, cycling had been a solitary pursuit—just me and the road. Now, I discovered the social heart of the sport. I joined a local bike club, and suddenly, I wasn't just riding for myself; I was riding with a group of guys who checked in every week. "Are you joining us this weekend?" they'd ask. In August, I did 50 miles. By April, I hit a record 135. In May over 200.
As my confidence grew, so did my desire to push further. While my Discover 2 was the perfect cruiser for those scenic, flat coastal trails, the inland New England hills were still too challenging. I knew if I wanted to keep pace with the club on those steeper climbs, I needed a different kind of beast.
I tortured myself over the decision. My first eBike was only eight months old—was I being silly? But I poured over the reviews, weighing the new mid-drive models: the Velotric Discover M and the Aventon Level 4 ADV. In the end, the decision wasn't just about torque or battery life. It was about the people behind the machine. I'd had one interaction with Velotric's customer service, and their responsiveness and engagement won me over. They don't know it yet, but that quick, helpful support is why my second bike is another Velotric.
Today, my garage holds both: the gray Discover 2 for those flat coastal cruises and the green Discover M for the inland hills. My friends ask if I'm going to sell the first one, and I just laugh. Why would I? Having two bikes means I can always bring a friend along for the ride.
Almost nine years after a Stage 4 diagnosis, I'm not just off the couch—I'm back in the world. I still have metastatic cancer, and the treatment still sucks my energy, but when I'm out there with the wind in my face, I'm not a patient. I'm a cyclist.
Thank you, Velotric!
A Velotric rider's story, shared in his own words
