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I still recall riding a bike without training wheels as if it was last night. When I was about seven or eight years old, I rode my first bicycle.
Riding my bike will stick with me as one of my favorite events forever. Learning to ride a bicycle can be very exciting, but also very painful. But personally, I found it very spectacular.
I started to realize that all of my friends had bikes with two wheels, and I had the only bike with those insanely horrifying training wheels still on it. I wanted my training wheels off and I wanted it bad. I had finally decided that it was time. My dad taught me how to ride my first bicycle.
“I want my training wheels off”, I said with extreme dignity. My mom just finished baking her award-winning banana bread. Man, I would die for a slice of bread, it was so good! Walking outside, I could remember how the blacktop with glimmering because of how bright it was. The sky was as clear as glass. We decided to come out on the perfect summer day. The park was pretty empty with just a few people here and there. Dad and I went to the central park to see how I would handle it. My dad brought his bike from when he was a kid and told me to hop on. I was very unsteady at first. The bike had white and red stripes and had a water bottle holder in the front. The event stuck in my head like a fishhook in my skin. I had so much fun going through the trials and errors of bike riding. “Be careful!”, my dad strongly advised me while he ran next to the bicycle to keep me steady. The road on which I was learning had a very flat blacktop that reflected everything in the vicinity. My dad was staying next to me to make sure I wouldn’t fall off. He kept pushing me to keep going even though I wanted to stop. I loved and trusted my dad so much that I kept pushing forward. “You’re a natural!”, he gratefully told me. I had the nicest dad you could ask for. He spent countless hours trying to teach get me to ride a bike flawlessly. He never gave up on me riding a bicycle. I couldn’t thank my dad enough for taking me out here to teach me how to ride a bike on this wonderful evening. I thanked my dad shyly for his patience. I started to get good, but the sun was setting, therefore he said we could try again tomorrow. My mom cooked my favorite steak and baked beans for dinner because of what I accomplished today.
The next day, my dad took me to that same park. With the wind in my face, I started to pedal aggressively. I was going faster now, it felt like I had been riding for years. “Dad, look at me, I’m doing it!”, I screamed in joy. My dad was about a football field length away from where I was. Suddenly, I felt giddy. I felt so scared that I was going to hurt myself very badly. My mind went blank from peddling, but I just kept going. I took another look at my dad. I felt some bumps in the road. Just then, I hit the biggest bump and fell into the grass. I had never seen my dad run faster than that. My dad looked like a professional sprinter. When he got to me, he asked me if I was okay. I had a little boo-boo on my knee. But that wouldn’t stop me from anything.
I practiced, and practiced and I started to get good. I fell several times and received some cuts on my hands and legs. My dad, however, told me not to lose heart. My dad told me I learned very fast, the fastest he had ever seen. Not long after, dad bought me my own bicycle. It was beautiful! I fell in love with it. I took care of that bicycle like a baby.
This childhood event is one of the most memorable in my life. Not only because it is my first time learning how to ride a bike. But it is also a learning curve in my life. My dad taught me how to be independent because he pushed me to do it on my own with minimal help. He also taught me to be persistent. Even though I fell many times, I kept going because my dad wanted me to. In all, this experience was very great for me and it is a thing that will stick with me forever.
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