Here's what Mom wrote in the December 1996 edition of the family newspaper called California Breeze:

The year was 1938. Christmas was coming--time to hope
once again for the gift I had been dreaming about for
years.  Not fancy clothes--too young for those.  Not dolls--too
old for them. No, my dream was for a bicycle. Oh, the places
I could go then!

         But money was pretty tight. Dad's job of repairing
the auto makers' electrical tools was sporadic. In the years of
car design changes he was sometimes laid off for weeks. So, I
learned early on not to expect my big dream. I did receive the
clothes and games and they were okay, although forgotten
now, but . . .

         That one special Christmas morning, very early, I
tiptoed past my parents' bedroom door and into the living
room. And there it was, in all its glory! A thing of beauty that
made my heart stop. Parked right in front of the tree over-
shadowing everything in the room. My bike. 26 inches of
shining blue, white and chrome. It had balloon tires, a basket
and a horn that operated with a touch of my knee. It even
sported a light. Not that I would ever be allowed to ride at
night. Oh my! The tag told me that my Santa was my big brother, Paul.

         I raced down the hall to his bedroom, opened the
door and jumped on him. Poor guy--jolted from sleep like
that. But what joy for me!

         Snow covered the ground for weeks, keeping me
from riding it, and never did spring take so long to arrive.
Memories of that Christmas make me smile even today. Perhaps
eight Schneider kids can remember learning to ride a
"two wheeler" on that very bike . . .