Not many people remember their first bicycle ride. I sure don’t. Fortunately I had someone capture that first moment.
At a recent gathering at my parents, I was browsing through some old family albums. I came across a photo of myself on a bike. My brother pointed out that this was the very first time I rode a bicycle on my own.
Living in the suburbs, the only way for kids to get around was to ride a bike. My parents entrusted my brother who was then 11 years old, to take me with him. He would lift me up, plop me down in front of him on the banana seat with my feet pressed up against the handlebars.
My first bike doesn’t count
I had my own bicycle with training wheels when I was a toddler. While I don’t remember the bike, I’ve convinced myself that I remember riding it, thinking there is something “off” with this thing. I couldn’t go fast and turning was annoying. I wanted to ride a bike like my brother.
Capturing the moment
One day, my brother and I went home to pick up something up. I was left outside standing on the driveway next to his bike. When he came back out, he was stunned by what he saw. Here I was at four years old, riding his bike around in circles. I couldn’t even reach the seat, but it didn’t deter me from pedaling.
He ran back inside to call my mom, who came out with a film camera and took a photo of my very first bike ride on my own.