It was back in the day when I learned to ride a bike. It was a wicked experience. Many things went wrong. My dad was the one who taught me, and helped me when I got hurt. The first time I had even gotten on a bike, I did it totally wrong. The handlebars were backwards, and so was my cool helmet. My dad told me just to put my feet on the pedals and start peddling. He also said he would hold on the back the whole time, yet he didn’t. As soon as I started balancing myself, he let go. Boy what a mistake that was. I looked back and realized that he had let go. I was scared to death that I was going to fall. When I was scared, I mysteriously forgot how to use the brakes and crashed right into a fence. My dad kept encouraging me to get up and try again, and after about 15 minutes, I finally got up and tried
The next morning I woke up bright and early, and very eager to try to ride my bike. My nose had felt better, so I wasn’t that afraid of falling anymore. This time I had knee pads, elbow pads, wrist pads, and of course my helmet. I was all set to go, when suddenly it started to drizzle. My dad told me that it was still “OK” to ride because it wasn’t raining that hard. When I began to ride again, everything seemed to be going right as I was peddling. I thought I mastered the art of riding a bike, and then all the sudden my back tire slipped out from under me as I was turning, and once again, I plunged into the ground like a torpedo breaking through the ground.
He answered, “There is nothing wrong with you. You are just a late bloomer.” I figured that he was right, because he was always rig
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