Riding Two Wheels

January 14, 2009
By Adrienne Boczar, Clarkston, MI

RIDING TWO WHEELS

My dad takes me out to the garage
and a queasy feeling in the pit of my stomach arises.
The sun shines vibrantly outside,
no clouds for miles.
The sidewalk sparkles
and acts as my “Red Carpet” for my riding debut.
Off go the training wheels.
One.
Two.
Again, my queasy stomach turns.
We lead my newly decorated bike-
flower stickers and all-
down the blazing hot driveway
to the calm sidewalk.
Mom, grinning, comes out of the house,
video camera ready.
This is going to be a big day.
I buckle my helmet straps
and climb upon the
magenta seat-
my throne-
trying to ignore my queasiness.
Dad starts me off,
holding my back and helping to steer;
guiding the way
for the next few feet.
“Let go dad!” I yell.

The next thing I know,
I am lying on the lifeless, brown grass.
My nerves have overcome.
Defeat.


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