Christmas is, for many fortunate kids big and little, a time for bikes. “It’s easy, just like riding a bike “.
Except when it just isn’t. Note this is a picture of me NOT riding my own bike. My brother has purloined said bike. Because it took me a whole hit summer to learn to ride a bike.
My father endlessly panting up and down Toolaby Ave in the long dusks, clinging onto the seat and/or the handlebars. (He was a no filter Chesterfield man). ...
Me yelling out not to let go. Him letting go. Me mega wobbling and falling off. Him starting again. Me finally getting five consecutive pedals going and yelling “I’m going to crash, I’m going to crash ,I’m going to crash into that car”. A parked car. Dimly visible in the distance. Him : How ? (Genuinely mystified). Me: magnetically drawn to the back of the car and crashing into it.
He pushed me to the max. I was equally determined to stick to my own view that the world was hostile, dangerous and out to get me. There was a lot of cool stuff on the other side of that fear and stubbornness. He knew that and I didn’t.
Plus he just wanted me to ride a damn bike like a normal kid. So he kept pushing me. It was an epic battle of wills.
And then, I finally got it. And in one glorious burst I had to accept he was right, AND that a whole new world was totally mine. ...
Not everyone can ride a bike first go. Life might give you a bloody hard push.
Keep pedalling my friends. ....
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