When I was about 6 years old, my dad would always tell me to practice riding my bike. I had been using training wheels for a long time and I was starting to get too old for them. I went through a long period of time where I tried riding my two-wheeler, with my dad pushing me from behind, but when he let go of the seat I would just tip over and fall. Somehow I knew all this practice would pay off though, so I kept pushing.
It took me weeks of training, but I could feel the confidence building up inside me and I knew I was getting close. I could feel it in my bones. The day finally came when my family had the annual 4th of July cookout and I was playing street hockey with my brothers and cousins. I was taking a break when my dad came over.
“Sure!” I replied.
So we went off down the drive way and then took a right to Crossman Circle, the side street next to my house. I was pedaling my legs off for an hour straight and had taken multiple spills. I was now covered in “battle wounds” on my elbows and knees, and blood was dripping slowly from all of them. Who would’ve known that learning to ride a bike would be so treacherous?!
I was starting to get exhausted and my knees and elbows were sore.
I was so confused at first because I had no idea what he was talking about. But soon I realized my Auntie Gina was at the top of the street and walking towards me. I hopped on the seat like a cowboy on a saddle and my dad started to push. We were going faster and faster as I started to pedal. The wind was blowing past my face as I picked up speed and then I started to get a feeling that something wasn’t right.
I was about half way to Auntie Gina when I decided to look back at my dad, but he wasn’t there. Without realizing it, I had been riding the bike by myself for about 20 yards and I was still going. I couldn’t believe my eyes. I had made it all the way to Auntie Gina without falling and I felt like the King of all Bikers. The next moment when I turned around, my dad was right there to give me a huge hug. I was so happy!
I rode around for about another half hour then rode home to the party feeling like a champion.
When I got back to the party, my family saw the scrapes on my arms and legs and knew I had been working hard.
Brendan is my older brother whom my Grampy was remarking about as he came up to me. Of course that made me chuckle, because Brendan would always beat me when we wrestled, so he was supposedly tougher than me.
This day will always remind me that learning something can be challenging, but practice makes perfect. I was one of the last ones out of my friends' group to start riding a two-wheeler, but hey, at least I got there eventually.
The Bike Ride
Tyler Merrick, 2017