it's like riding a bike

I want to extend a thanks to my pals Allison and Chris, who put up with me on Saturday! They took me out, and taught me to ride a bike. When I was leaving my house on Saturday and told my roommate I was going to learn how to ride a bike she asked, "You never learned how to ride a bike?" So, let me start at the beginning.

When I was younger I had a big wheel - you remember big wheels, right? I didn't have the Knight Rider one, I don't think that I wanted the Knight Rider one even. I had a Kermit the Frog one - I loved Kermie. But, I used to remove Kermie from the front, and stick him on the side (the little pole that held him on the front fit into the hole in the handle bars) and I would ride around the driveway talking to Kermie (and calling him Kitt). I progressed up to a shiny red tricycle. I used to ride this up and down the driveway, sometimes standing on the back and pushing with one foot, like it was a scooter. Then I got a bike. It was purple. It said Buttercup on it. It was a bike with training wheels, and I think if I had my way it would have stayed a bike with training wheels until now. But I didn't have it my way. One day my dad made the training wheels lopsided, so I could learn to not use them. And then, one day, they were gone.

I was never one of those kids who rode my bike everywhere. I rode it up the driveway, and back. I rode it to the corner (our house is the last one on the street) and back. I was a daredevil, sometimes I went around the corner...but never to the next. We lived at the bottom of a few great big hills, I rarely ventured over those. One time, we were vacationing on Block Island, and had rented bikes. This was way back before "helmet laws" - back when us kids used to sit, unbuckled, in the front seat of a car while playing with BB guns. After a full day of riding and swimming at the beach we were headed back to return the rented bikes. Like any tired 10 year old I was begging my mom to let me take off the stupid, itchy, hot, too big helmet. She finally gave in. It was about this time that fell off. I'm going to save the details of this story - because they are good enough to warrant their own post - but let's just fast-forward to the end.

Stitches. in. my. head.

After I was healed, like any good mother, my mom wanted to make sure I wasn't ruined on bike riding forever. She would suggest that I ride to a friends, or go down the street. I used to ride to the corner, hide my bike in the bushes, go for a walk, and then pick up my bike and ride home. After a while of doing this, I think I just dropped the act. I eventually got too big for the purple bike that said Buttercup. Years later I used my own money to buy a pair of rollerblades. I used to use these inside of our cluttered 2 car garage.

So, back to Allison and Chris. Basically they had to deal with me - someone who has never used a bike (or similar thing) to do anything useful or even exciting. Ever. I was using my mom's old bike (circa 1974) - made by Panasonic. It's a great bike. If I were about 3 inches taller it would be awesome. As it is though, the seat is as low as possible and it's a tad too high. The three of us spent about 45 minutes going in circles around a playground where there was a baseball game going on. And when I say circles, let me point out that we surely stopped EACH TIME we made a complete circle. One time I was following Allison, and she kept going. I remember I said "oh, around again?" I proudly announce each time I was able to shift the gears (which I never really knew if I did right) and use the brake (singular because one didn't work!) Then - we rode up the street for ice cream.

And my neuroses about eating an ice cream cone are worse (right, Al?) so I'll stop now.

THANKS GUYS!