One year, my parents brought me a beautiful bike for Christmas. Of course it had training wheels so I could learn how to steer and balance.
I used to ride that little bike everywhere, training wheels and all. I thought I was pretty tough, and rode it in the dirt, down the sidewalk and to the store with mom.
Eventually, it was time to learn to ride without training wheels. So one weekend, dad took them off. We walked the bike onto the sidewalk, and he told me to get on and ride.
I was scared. It looked hard, and the ground didn’t look inviting. Nonetheless, everyone was watching, and everyone said it would be easy. So I climbed up on the seat, grabbed the handlebars, and bravely started riding.
And ran right, smack into a tree. That hurt! Fortunately, I wasn’t going very fast, so I wasn’t hurt very badly.
Being a determined little kid, I walked the bike back, got on it again, and tried once more. Yet again, I smacked into the tree, this time flying over the handlebars.
By the end of the day, I hated that tree.
I eventually learned to ride, however, and by the next day I could wobble my way a few hundred feet in one direction without falling down. I wasn’t very good at it yet, but I was definitely enjoying myself.
By the end of the week, I was riding my bike like I’d been born on wheels. I was so proud! I had mastered the art of the bike-ride.
Unless otherwise noted, all photos and text is Copyright © Richard G Lowe, Jr.