Random childhood memories: Vol. II
Since I've been riding a bike regularly for the first time in more than fifteen years and since Sunday is Father's Day, I thought this might be a good story for the second installment of my occasional series Random Childhood Memories.
I got a bike for Christmas when I was six or maybe seven. It was about the coldest day I ever remember from the nearly 10 years we lived in Florida. Probably mid 50s.
My dad took me out in our neighborhood so I could learn how to ride. He ran on my right-hand side with one hand on the handlebars and the other on the back of the bright-green seat.
The first time he took his hand off the handlebars, I checked to make sure his other hand was still on the seat, and as long as it was, my balance was fine.
A couple trips around the block later, his hand left the handlebars and I was steady, until I turned around and saw that he wasn't holding onto the seat either.
I started to wobble almost immediately, but he was able to steady me before I fell. I think it's strange that it was him actually supporting me that mattered, just that I thought he was.
Labels: Random childhood memories
5 Comments:
That's very sweet. Much nicer than my most vivid biking memory - riding around the asphalt path at the beach, colliding with a twentysomething woman, being thrown to the grass and swearing at her - all on the first day of third grade. I wasn't nasty as a kid, no, not at all.
This sounds like it should be the text of a Hallmark card. Can't you just imagine it...
"I remember when I first learned how to ride a bike...blah....blah...thanks for always having a hand to steady me...."
When my dad taught me to ride, I started crying and he started screaming at me. I hate him so much.
I will confirm that yes, that was the coldest day during our almost 10 years in Florida. Thanks for the memory.
I remember going to the Baskin Robbins down the street on my bike with Dad. And to this day, I still ride my bike and eat ice cream almost everyday.
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