I got my bicycle ready early in the morning and my 3-year-old son couldn't wait to hop into the small seat on the back. As we passed the security guard, the boy uttered a complicated sentence that surprised us both: "Our car is even-numbered and we can't get onto the road. If the police uncles catch us, they will fine my mum."

Yes, our car has "0" at the end of the license plate and we have to find an alternative way to send junior to kindergarten as the city's even-odd number restriction for cars runs until September 20.

The wind was pleasantly cool as the trees sheltered us before we reached the main road. When I'm driving, I always complain about how stuffy it is in the car and my husband often talks me about of using the air-conditioning too often. "It wastes gas, gets you ill and depletes the ozone layer," he'd say.

As I pedaled along, I realized that nature does a far more superior job than any air-conditioner. And I'm genuinely happy at our humble contribution to mother earth's everlasting youth and vitality.

I grinned as my son kept admiring the blossoming roses, the trucks carrying new cars and an auntie who covered her face with a huge hat with a broad rim which served as sunglasses. The ride gave us ample time to study the passengers, buildings and everything else that I had ignored as a focused driver.

My memory drifted back to the 1970s, when our family used to go for enjoyable rides on our loyal old bike. It was a Forever (Yongjiu) brand, it was the most valuable member of the family and it was 5 years older than me.

Every Sunday, dad would take mum, my sister and I on the sturdy bike and head for a resort with hot springs near the valley where we lived. Yunnan is a mountainous province and the asphalt road wound along the slopes. We constantly had to jump off to give dad a push.

On top of the hill, we'd all get ready: My sister sat on the crossbeam in front of dad, while mum held me and sat on the back seat. In a moment, the whole family would sail triumphantly down the slope, shouting and laughing.

Bikes were introduced to Shanghai in the 1860s as toys for the rich and powerful. Although some Chinese businessmen made bikes in the 1930s, most components were imported and it wasn't until the 1950s that China produced its own. And Forever has been the most famous brand.

The beloved bike among the Chinese farmers was nicknamed "the little donkey that doesn't eat grass". In the 1980s, some farmers would get a Forever bike before buying anything else after a bumper harvest.

All this has changed over the last ten years or so, as millions of Chinese families replaced two wheels with four, but I do hope the temporary restriction on cars helps to remind people how pleasant life can be without them.

As we turned into the path leading to the kindergarten, my son asked: "Mum, will you be tired, riding in the morning and afternoon for me?"

How will I be? My dear.

(China Daily 07/24/2008 page20)