A Beautiful Bike

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Humor  |  House: Booksie Classic
childhood memories

Submitted: January 27, 2009

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Submitted: January 27, 2009

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Teeth clenched, squinted eyes and the determination no young boy should ever have, he climbs the steep grassy hill. His mother calls, frowning upon the idea as his father shakes his head knowing a crucial lesson would be learnt here today. His mom cries out again, yet he is too far away now, the words fade never reaching him. All hope is lost. Finally what he's been waiting for. He kicks out the stand and rests it atop the starting point, peers over to wave at his mom and laughs. Regardless, it was time, he kicked the kick stand back up and mounted the bike. It's looks so cool when they do this on TV he thinks, like Otto Rocket, only Otto's been riding a bike since he was in diapers. The thoughts are meaningless, he pushes off with his feet, the bike starts to wobble. Strange, this didn't happen on TV., maybe because Otto Rocket knew how to petal. A speck of sweat trickled from raised eyebrows, they say, "Wow! That's steeper then I thought." A girlish shriek escapes from under the heavy breathes. The wheels began to shutter madly, the handles have a mind of their own and it was clear this kid was going to die.

I might have just took the cheesiest approach to retelling the story of my first bike ride as a youth. I might have been around 9 or 10 years old. I know, I get it a lot, that’s pretty old to start learning how to ride a bike. Well, I can't go back in time so I'll just except it, plus not many people were blessed with the first ride I was.

It all began when K-Mart closed down in my neighborhood. I wasn't heartbroken because I never set foot in that store. For a couple of years it was just an empty, dark, depressing nothing building. Then just like magic it became the infamous Wal-Mart.

There was a Shaws next to the K-mart (now Wal-Mart). My mom would send me on favors to go and get her some fruit or milk, things I could carry. Shaws was not every kids dream store, but Wal-Mart was like Christmas in a bottle. When you went through the sliding doors, the elves would greet you with delighted yellow stickers and they'd whisper just so you could hear, “we have power ranger action figures, aisle 5“. Of course I'd beg and plead for each and every toy I laid eyes on. I was a little boy and that’s all we do, it's our way of life. Well the day came when I had bought a fair share of action figures , pretty soon I was already bored of them. Then the day came when I fell in love with an inanimate object. It was the most beautiful thing I’ve ever laid eyes on. Anyhow this is how it happened.

Around 2 o’clock on a Friday, I remember because I just got off the bus without homework, I decided I'd take matters into my own hands and explore the isles of Wal-Mart, not just aisle 5. I don't remember the exact order I visited these places in but I remember sprinting through the clothes section like a bad dream. I also remember the awkwardness of walking through the women’s and jewelry sections. Note, the lady behind the jewelry counter had the awful sense of humor. She would tease everyone that walked by about how good they would look in these earrings or that bracelet, even the guys. I cruised around the video game area watching the older kids play the hot new games and was about to call it a day. When suddenly a man walked by with a mountain bike.

This man walked right pass me with a mountain bike. Didn’t even realize he had just altered my life, and that it’s all his fault I was near close to death! Well the little boy, that’s me , ran home to his mom who flipped out because she had no idea where he had been. He asked her for a bike, she said no, he asked his dad, he said no, he pouted, he pleaded, he begged, he cried. Weeks went buy and my little sister was born. She was cute but that didn't last to long. I went through the whole: you like her better then me stage. I was gloomy and dark towards everyone. One day she cried so hard but I just stood there and laughed so much harder. My mom walked in the room and knocked me back into yesterday. I still feel the lump on my head. My parents negotiated and for my sister’s second birthday, 1999, they got us both a present. She got lots of boring stuff and I got ... A BIKE.

Like I said it was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen. Unfortunately there was a glitch in the system; (a) I didn't know how to ride this bike and (b) my sister’s birthday is in December so we were basically in the tundra for a couple more months.

The bike went untouched and the rider was driven crazy. Every morning I'd peer outside the window praying for clear grounds, everyday I'd see snowflakes teasing me with their complex yet pure figure. The day had to come though, just had to when that wonderful morning there was no snow on the ground, and I got the thumbs up for the first ride. Anxious as heck I declined my dads offer to teach me how to ride MY bike and I ignored my mom’s complaints about wearing a dumb helmet, at least until she cemented it onto my small head. A hasty, " I'll be careful," and I was gone.

Now in the beginning of my essay I mentioned Otto Rocket. Apart from never missing an episode of Power Rangers I watched a lot of Rocket Power. It was new, it was hip so I liked it. Otto was a wild kid, skater, surfer, biker, the kid was an extreme sport prodigy, and so was I.

I sat on my new bike and waited for it to go, nothing happened. My mom was sitting by the window watching me like a lion watches the gazelles before dinner. She saw me hop off, look around and push my bike up a steep hill. She claims she was screaming at the top of her lungs for me to come back, but until this day there's no proof for her case. Regardless at the time I heard nothing but the voice inside my head. It told me I was Otto Rocket, I was a bike master. I reached the top of that hill with exhausted efforts, and there was no way I wasn't going to carry out this plan. I hopped right on my bike and pushed off with my feet. No experience needed, I was on top of the world. I reached the edge of the hill and the rest was a blur. From time to time I ask my mom what happened and she'd tell me the same thing.

Going down the hill I was going like 90, I’m exaggerating of course. I was screaming like a 3 year old kid the whole way down, crying out for it to stop. Someway, somehow I managed to squeeze the back brakes, but I was going too fast so I was sent into drift mode. There were some parked cars in my direct path at the bottom of the hill and I did not stop in time. A few skidded feet later I was in free fall. I went up like a balloon and came down like a rock. I landed on the window shield. The glass shattered and my dad was instantly down a few hundred dollars. I was conscious enough to see a large piece of glass sticking out of my left leg. I certainly felt it.

There is a happy ending. I am still alive, but I didn't learn to ride a bike for a while. Not because I was scared of the incident reoccurring but because I feared my mother scolding me. Today a bike is good for getting me from point A to B. In fact I don't even own a bike anymore. I never learned my lesson either and I don’t think I ever will. Because a few years later I convinced a few friends I knew how to dirt bike. Turned out I didn’t.


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