Recently my daughter asked me to pick up a bicycle that someone was selling before they moved away. Annelise had been asking for a bicycle, and at $20, this was a good buy.
So I picked up the bicycle and Lucy brought the girls by to get it. We had fun going down to the park while Annelise tried out her new (to her anyway) bicycle.
As I held tightly onto the bike, against Annelise’s complaints, I was transported back over 50 years to the time when I was learning how to ride a bicycle. On a gravel lane on my grandmother’s farm. With no training wheels.
Riding a bike is like flying. The wind is blowing in your hair and you’re free as a bird. Learning to ride a bike is a rite of passage,