RIDING A BIKE....
When I was 6 years old my bro and I got bikes from Santa Claus, and we were both so excited! My bike had a banana seat with multi-colored daisies printed on it, and a white wicker basket with plastic colored daisies that was hung from the handlebars. It was the bomb, and I was so proud to have it. It came with training wheels that I used for a couple of years. My parents would adjust them every couple of months or so until finally one day I had enough confidence to ride without them. Even though I could keep my balance on the bike I would have to concentrate harder than everyone else while doing it. I could never let go of the steering wheel, even though I had tried believe me! For about a week I would just drive on our driveway which wasn’t that big. Then my mom decided to take me down the street to ride. The street had a pretty big slope to it which made me nervous. Mom assured me that she would be holding on to the back to give me support and would not let it go. I think this is something every parent says when teaching their kid how to ride a bike. Of course, when we started down the street mom had hold of the bike. Then soon after, she let go of the bike and I was on my own. When I realized this my feet went off the pedals to the side and I start yelling. Because I was on a slope I was rolling at a pretty good speed, and I ran into a bush! My mom helped me to get out of the bush thorns and all. Like my parents always told me, if you fall get back up and try again. That was just what I did, but that was not the only time I crashed and burned. There were hundreds of times, but not enough paper to mention all of them.
One other one I have to tell about happened shortly after the one I previously told you about. With practice, I was doing okay on the slopey street. Due to my confidence, I decided to give it another whirl! Only this time as I began to go down the street a car started coming up the street. The smart thing would have been to stop where I was and waited for the car to go by, but I was not smart. I was concentrating on too many things all at once like the car, where I was going, and most importantly keeping my balance. I ended up falling off my bike and skinned my knee up really good. There were two elderly women in the car. Seeing this all take place they stopped their vehicle, got out and asked me if I was okay. They asked me if I would like a ride to my house, and I told them no that I just lived round the corner and I would be okay. I did not know the ladies, so they told me they would at least go to my house to tell somebody I fell on my bike and was injured. They left and I grabbed my bike and started walking home. When I got home, of course my mom doctored me up with peroxide and put on a Band-Aid. Dad told me that when the ladies were at the door that they said "Your son fell off his bike around the corner, and hurt his knee really bad. You have done a good job in raising him, because he would not get in the car with us when we offered!" I had the ever so famous pixey hairstyle (real short) which I did not like, because it made me look like a boy. I had just gotten it cut like that a few days before this took place. So, all I did was grip about my hairstyle looking like a boy. Isn’t it ironic! Of course, that did not end my days of bike riding. The boy next door and I were always going on little dirt bike trails. Picturing the image of my ever so masculine bike on the trails cracks me up! On a couple of different occasions I spent the night with my best friend in Elementary, and we rode our bikes to school (she lived close). Around the age of 11 is when my physical problems started getting in the way more so than before. It was then I quit riding my bike, and it stayed in the garage:(.
Yet again, several signs made themselves known. I am so thankful for all of these memories. They all put a smile on my face or a tear in my eye from all the laughter:). What about your memories? Do tell???
Thanks for taking the time to read,