Week 3: Childhood Memory

The day kids look forward to most: No more training wheels. I was four years old and so ready for my dad to take the two extra wheels off my bike that I didn’t need. I wanted to be like my brothers. I always wanted to do what they did. Difference in age never seemed like a legitimate excuse as to why I couldn’t do the same things as them. After nights of begging my dad to take the wheels off, he finally did. I stood next to him in the garage waiting anxiously as he unscrewed the wheels. It seemed like hours before he was done. Once he finished, I hopped on my bike, forgetting that the extra wheels were no longer attached. BOOM. I scrapped my elbow and hit the ground. But that little scratch wasn’t going to stop me. I tried again. Over and over. Failing. I was beginning to get frustrated so my dad suggested that he help me. I finally was on the seat of my bicycle and ready to go. My dad held on the back of the seat and ran with me as I was peddling. He asked if I was ready for him to let go. Of course I was. He let go. I was swerving all over the place looking like a drunk four year old on a bicycle. I remember my dad yelling “be careful Lindsey, slow down!” Next thing I know I am turning the corner and fall completely over, hitting my head on the curb. I screamed so loudly that everyone on the street came out to see what was wrong. I had rocks stuck in the side of my cheeks and blood running down my face. Fourteen stitches later to my little face, I never wanted to get on a bicycle without training wheels again.