When I was 11 years old, my parents surprised me at Christmas with a Schwinn Apple Krate Stingray with wide open handlebars and a set of classic "suicide bars" that became the envy of my friends in the neighborhood. Its sleek red bars, flashing reflector lights and bolt-lightning strikes on the outer frame of the shiny, metallic bike made me feel more like Jack Nicholson flying down the highway in "Easy Rider" than a punkie kid riding down the narrow sidewalks near my house.