Training Wheels

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Pink, I think it was a pink bicycle. But was it for my birthday or Christmas?

I can't be for certain. It was small, so I believe I was small. I grew out of it fast, though.

I remember my mother with me as I mounted my first bike. It had training wheels.

At first sight I noticed it would be safe. But in my little mind, I also wondered if it would be fast.

I take off on the little bicycle. It is a bit cumbersome to peddle. My mother is by my side encouraging me.

At once I am struck with absolute certainty-- this bicycle is not going as fast as it could.

I may have jumped off. I may have still been on the seat. I know for a fact that I demanded in that very instances for the training wheels to be taken off. I am sure I had a fit. I maybe even pitched a fit and flung and flailed my arms and threw my head back and perhaps even shed some tears. I may even have tried to personally with my four or five year old self, remove the training wheels. I wanted them gone. I needed them gone. I demanded them gone.

Very shortly there after. I got back on this bicycle and wobbled and weaved a bit, my mother right behind me, and soon I got my bearings. Indeed it was faster. I was uninhibited. I was free of restraints. No shoulder pads or knew guards or helmets in those days. Just the sheer will to stay aloft. I was alone upon the bicycle. Weeeeee!!!

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