I Never Learned To Ride A Bike

Yep. You read it right. I’m a proud 1978 born woman who has never learned to ride a bike. Don’t get me wrong, it isn’t for lack of trying. Nope. I tried – repeatedly but I also failed – just as repeatedly. I tried when most kids begin to learn somewhere between 6 and 8 years old with the pink bike, sparkle tassels, and training wheels. Yet being raised by my grandmother she took more care in making sure I was reading and praying than sending me outside to play on the suburban blocks of the Bronx.

I tried again in my teens despite the embarrassment of having my younger cousins speed past me as I tried to convince someone not to let go as I found my balance.  My last and what I thought would be my final attempt was in my early 20s as the young mother determined to ride alongside her son. Still, that attempt on my Aunt’s 10 speed ended in a bruised bootie and ego as yet again I figured this bike would simply be something I never did.

That’s right folks. In the 4th month of the year 2021 (I dunno somehow writing it out like that just adds a bit of drama to things… lol). I decided I would learn how to ride a bike. It would no longer be something I never did but instead something I accomplished.  It all started last weekend when the Hubby and I set out to get all 3 of our younger kiddies new bikes. They’d all had training wheels but somehow they never got past that stage. After picking the right size, style and color we headed home with 3 bikes racked up on my truck – determined my never would not become theirs.

Air was added to tires, seats adjusted, and pep talks given. My 14-year-old daughter a/k/a Big Girlie walked her bike down the driveway, threw her leg over the side, and after a bit of focus kicked off and simply rode down the block. That was it! I stood at the top of the driveway in complete awe of this girl. She did it! No falling, no crying, no hesitation. She simply said she could do it, focused, and did it! Who was this child and where did she get her balance, focus, and courage?

Next up was my 12-year-old daughter a/k/a Baby Girlie. She watched her sister and decided she too would make this happen. Except it didn’t work. Not the same way. She walked her bike down, focused for a bit, threw her leg over, kicked off and stumbled, wobbled then fell. I gasped as I saw her and her brand new pink and white bike hit the ground. I started to run down the driveway – tell her she could try again another day but I felt my Hubby grab my arm. He pointed at her. She was sitting there, glasses in her hand crying. I tugged for him to let me go to her. He didn’t. He held me there. Pointing for me to watch. Reluctantly I did. Slowly she put her glasses back on, checked her knees, picked up her bike, and tried again. And again. And again. But then, I heard her giggle. She was riding! Right behind her sister. Still a bit wobbly but she was riding!! She did it!

Last to go was my Buddie. My 10-year-old youngest son. He was not excited or motivated to do any of this. He is my indoor introvert. The kid who will stay in the house every day all day if we let him. He stood beside his bike as his Dad explained how he could do this, how he just had to focus. He looked frustrated – completely and totally. I saw that frustration change to anger as he told my Hubby he didn’t want to be babied. I watched him walk his bike down, focus for a bit, throw his leg over, step on the peddle, look back at us and declare he didn’t want to do this – not today. I was both sad and proud of him all at the same moment.

I’d been there. I understood the not feeling ready for whatever reason, his own reason or even no reason at all. I’ll be honest, my husband was ready to simply push him to do it. He wanted him to resist the urge to give up. Yet we both know our kid – he is the one who needs to be ready within himself and no amount of convincing will change that. So we both watched as he walked his bike back up the driveway, grabbed his scooter, and zipped past the girlies and they continued to ride back and forth, up and down the block. The sadness gone, the anger dissolved. He made his choice and he was perfectly okay with it.

As I watched my Kiddies I felt this urgency to change my never. Maybe it wasn’t too late? Maybe I could try again. My Hubby must’ve sensed it because as we loaded up the Kiddies bikes to ride over to the park he said ‘I’ll teach you on one of the girl’s bikes once we get there’.

He said it so casually and with such confidence but the instant I heard the sentence I started to panic. He thought this was going to be easy. I’m not sure if his confidence was in his ability to teach because it couldn’t be in my ability to learn. I had been that kid, standing there, focused, throwing my leg over, kicking off, and then – falling. Failing. Quitting. So what would make this time different? What made me think I could do this. I must be crazy.

I am 42. NOT a kid anymore and my balance is probably even less than it was 30 years ago. Still, I wanted to believe him. I wanted it to simply happen. I wanted to be either one of my Girlies and simply do it – but could I? Would I?

As we unloaded the bikes and the girls took off down the trails I stood there listening to him explain that I could do this. It was a matter of focusing and believing I could. Man, was he serious? Did he think I’d never heard that before?

I said okay. I walked my daughter’s bike down to the trail. Stood for a bit. Focused. Threw my leg over. Kicked off. There it was – the unbalance, the fear of hitting the ground, the uncertainty of how to keep all the things going. My feet, the steering. How and why did I think this would work?

Then I heard his voice. ‘You’ve got this – just do it!‘. I stopped. Took a breath. Repeated his words: ‘you’ve got this – just do it!‘. Again I stood for a bit. Focused. Threw my leg over. Kicked off. Wait What’s this? I’m moving. Forward. Straight. What the heck!?!?!?  Am I doing this? Wait. Too fast. Oh, man. I’m going sideways. Why can’t I go straight? My foot. It’s sliding off the peddle. I stopped. I was done. I felt all the feelings I saw on my son’s face not even an hour earlier. I was done. I didn’t want to do this. Not today. Not anymore. Maybe never.

My husband saw where I was mentally and thankfully didn’t seem to push me much more. I tried a few more times and then simply handed him the bike and watched as he and my daughter raced back to the truck. I told him I couldn’t ride because the seat was simply too uncomfortable. A lie. Okay, not completely a lie because if ya’ll ride you know those seats have a way of hitting your bone in a way that you will never forget but I wanted an out and took it.  Except my husband, always the problem solver and solution maker started driving back towards the sports store instead of to the house.

Not a question, suggestion, or even open for discussion. He simply stated it as fact. When we walked into the store I watched him go to a black and pink 22″ wheel Mongoose mountain bike, pull it down and then walk over to the seat section where he selected the most gel-cushioned one he could find. He rolled everything to the check-out and out to the truck. He removed all my excuses and put the never back in my hands. If I wanted to learn to ride he did everything to make it possible.

When we got back to the house it was dark. I helped unload the bike and rolled it into the garage. I watched as he swapped out that devil of a seat for the wide gel-cushioned one. He tightened the last bolt. Then simply stood back and watched the night sky begin to darken. I stood next to him watching the bike.

Maybe tomorrow. Maybe next weekend when it’s warmer and the sun is out. Yet deep down I knew if it wasn’t right now it would remain a never. So I walked over to the bike. Walked it down the driveway. Stood for a bit. Focused. Threw my leg over. Kicked off. The fear was still there, my balance was betraying me, I felt the frustration and the anger rising but then I heard his voice.

As I looked up I saw him riding next to me on my son’s bike. He told me to copy what he did. I did. I wobbled. I tripped. I stopped. Stood for a bit. Focused. Threw my leg over. Kicked off. We repeated this cycle for nearly 15 minutes. Then my older son came outside and jumped on my daughter’s bike. There I was with the two most important men in my life riding beside me waiting on me to believe I could do this.

It was dark, chilly and the street lights and moonlight were bright. I wanted so bad to give up. To simply allow never to remain. They wouldn’t let me. They stayed out there as I kept trying, failing, and trying again. Until I tried and it worked. Somehow I managed to ride down most of the block. My Hubby slowly peddling beside me. I held my breath as I realized I was passing house after house. Was this it? Was I riding a bike?

I stopped at the end of the block and heard him stop next to me. ‘I told you you could do this. Now let’s turn around and ride back.‘

I know this may seem like nothing big but for me, this is simply the first check off my list because as of today I will never say never again!