My earliest memory of biking was with my dad pushing me from behind, while I took the back seat to my elder brother’s two-seater bicycle. I guess despite the trainer wheels , my father still felt the need to make sure that my brother and I didn’t topple down, intoxicated as we were with our first taste of riding this wonderful pair of wheels.
This makes me chuckle a bit, because not only were we astride safely on a brand new bicycle, we were obviously seated on a vehicle whose clearance was less than a foot off the ground, and my chubby brother was hardly pedaling anyway, so we were going really slow( my brother claimed he just wasn’t strong enough to handle the extra weight at the back–meaning me).
Later on, I would graduate to having my own bike, a single seater trike. Despite the fact that it could safely run on three sturdy wheels, again, I still remember my dad never straying too far away from me everytime I rode it, ready for the remotest possibility that I might fall off and graze my knees.
When I look back now, I realize that worry is but a natural part of a parent’s life. Parenthood includes moments of indecision and doubt, and I remember my mommy reassuring my dad that day when it did happen, I did fall off my trike— and my mom nonchalantly told my dad that hey, your daughter’s fine, she’ll live, stop blaming yourself , quit blabbing, and get the Terramycin Plus (Polymixin B Sulfate + Bacitracin Zinc + Neomycin Sulfate) Antibacterial Skin Ointment from my handbag. As dad ran off to get mom’s handbag, I got a good piece of mom’s mind that day, words about taking it carefully and not overspeeding, especially when there are little bumps on the road. I still smile everytime we recount that piece of family history , and my mother tells us again and again that my father felt he shouldn’t have bought that trike, that it was wrong to indulge us, his kids with wheels that became instruments of pain and hurt —those were my father’s exact words.
Whoa. Even then, I knew that though mom went along with dad’s agony, I’m sure she must have felt that it was too much drama on my father’s part. It’s kinda sweet of course, the memory of a father so distraught at the sight of her daughter’s skinned knees. So she’ll never make it as a beauty queen, I remember my mom joking as she applied the Terramycin on my knees. Curiously enough, today my knees are free of scars, and I don’t remember the pain at all, but what I remember is the joy of riding that trike… … my father pushing me from behind… and the joy of going fast as my father ran and ran, pushing me all the way, in order that I may actually feel the wind on my face as that bike actually picked up speed! Of course, the day I fell, he wasn’t home, and I willfully forgot his request that I should wait for him to come home so that he can be there when I ride my trike. But no, I just had to go biking before it got really dark. Dad arrived at that exact moment to witness me tumbling down from my trike, well, it must be said that I didn’t tumble because he was there — it just happened. But what occurred after is the stuff of sweet memories—the best kind actually, like the ones you nicely tuck in a special corner of your mind: dad playing with us, giving us his time and his love, and how my mom could calm him with gentle humor, reassuring him somehow that they’re doing their best as parents.
Hey, that ‘s parenthood, and just about the best kind. Learning that your kids can weather the blows that life sends them. Realizing that you, as parents, are not to blame, because you try your best everytime anyway. And learning, that though your children may fall off a bike, it’s great that somebody’s there to catch them. Life is like a trike indeed, in a lot of ways, and it can be one great ride, especially since you’re not doing the driving alone, and if you fall, you can just get back on. —– Soccermom97