I breathed in the afternoon air; this was it, the moment of truth. I, a
six year old, brown haired boy, was sitting on a dark blue bicycle. I
was extremely nervous, with my over sized helmet falling over my
forehead, and my tiny shoes barely touching the sidewalk. “Do you want a
push?” my dad asked. I looked up. There was my dad, towering over me.
“Do you, or do you not want a push to start off?” he repeated.
I replied. I readied myself; this was it. A week ago I had managed to
ride up the street and back with training wheels. This time, I was
without training wheels. The circuit would start at my driveway. I would
then turn left and travel down the sidewalk for two houses before
turning into one of the houses, do a U-turn, and travel back to the
house safely. Could I do it? I wasn’t so sure.
The plan was simple. My dad would push me forward, giving me the speed I
needed to gain control. “Ready?” my dad asked. I nodded solemnly. “Ok,
5, 4, 3,” Already doubt was creeping into my mind, but I pushed it out.
, 1” A surge of speed coursed through my dad’s hands, into my bike,
and I was off like a rocket. The speed was so great that I had to swerve
to not go sailing off the sidewalk! When I regained control, a wave of
triumph surged through my body. I had done it. I would do it! However,
with my joy, the squeak of my feet turning the pedals ceased, and my
speed rapidly decreased, and with it, my control over the bike. I swerve
once, twice! I took one last swerve; and the bike came out from under
me. For a millisecond, I hung in the air before plummeting onto my own
bike. Soon, I was on the ground, tears running down my cheeks, and
slashed knee to my chest.
Two days later, I was attempting the same thing. This time I had devised
what at my age would have been described as a clever scheme. Instead of
having my dad push me, I would simply pedal down the driveway, turn, and
continue on my course. My dad was there, in case I injured myself again.
I would soon be happy that he was there. My scar on my left knee had
mostly healed, but still was stiff with the bandage on it. I then took a
deep breath, let it out, and started pedaling. From the start, I knew
something was wrong. Then I realized that the driveway was sloped
downward! I was going too fast! I tried to turn at the sidewalk, but I
went right past it into the street! I attempted to twist the handlebars,
succeeding to turn the bike back toward the sidewalk, but at an angle.
My dad saw what was going to happen and shouted, “Stop!” But I just kept
going. When the bike hit the bump that separated sidewalk and street, it
jolted upwards before falling on its side. I, on t he other hand, soared
over the handlebars, did a full flip, and landed on my back in the lawn.
My dad was running towards me, and saltwater was released in torrents
from my eyes.
Later that day, I was at it again. I had learned from my mistakes. This
time, I would let the driveway allow my bike to pick up speed. Once
again I inhaled a deep breath, and pushed off. As I picked up speed I
banked sharply to the left, and on my way. As I began pedaling down the
beige, concrete sidewalk, I realized, “I’m doing it! I’m actually doing
it!” I smelled pine, twisted, and saw pine trees whipping past in green
blur. My hands began gripping the rubber handlebars extremely tight, so
I wouldn’t lose control and crash. I began breathing heavily to keep up
with the rhythmic pedaling of my feet. I turned into the neighbor’s
driveway, braking slightly as I completed the U-turn. And then I was on
the home stretch. I pedaled faster, feeling the wind whip past my face.
My dad was waiting for me, arms outstretched; a huge grin plastered
crossed his face. When I reached him, I braked to a stop, then jumped
off the bike and hugged him tight. Then he looked into my eyes and said,
“Great job son, great job”..
My mom was so proud of me; she cooked up a dinner of spaghetti,
meatballs, and sausage. I sat there at the oak dining table, sauce
dripping form my mouth, thinking. “Want some more meatballs?” my mom
asked.. I nodded. It was then I realized it, and I still remember it
today, that if I put my mind to something, and keep on trying even after
I failed, I could do wonders.