About ten years ago, I bought a beautiful blue bike. I rode it a bit, but I fell at least once, and the roads around me were scary. Then we moved to a town where there wasn't really a good place for me to ride, and I parked it in the garage for two years.
I ended up selling that bike, but I was happy that it went to a young girl who had been working hard and saved her money. Her dad was with her, checking out the bike and watching out for his daughter as she tried it out on the street. It was very sweet to watch their loving interaction as he loaded the bike onto the back of his truck for her.
I learned to ride a bike out in the country on a sandy road. There were no cars, just the bike and a long lovely downhill lane where we could pick up speed and just fly right past the house and down a fast hill before it leveled out and got out to the main road.
How well I remember the feeling of the wind flying through my hair, the wheels humming under me as I pushed the pedals to go faster and faster. Now, of course, I wear a helmet when I bike, and the bike is much more complicated than the simple one-speed that I learned on. There is traffic, cars and pedestrians and other bikes to watch out for. Instead of a sandy road, there are manhole covers and stop signs and all sorts of other obstacles to get around.
I'll post more about bikes tomorrow, but for now, here's a fun video I discovered about learning--and relearning--how to ride a bike. It's from Six Seconds, a website about emotional intelligence.
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