The Day the Training Wheels Came Off

Way back in the 50's, bikes were a lot different then. They had pinache, like most cars were in those days. You could tell what make & model a car was from three blocks away, you know? Fins were big then and a car was adorned with lots of chrome. Bicycles were that way, too. Today cars are almost clones of each other. How freaking BORING!. Now you have to practically get close enough to see the freaking plastic adornments on the car to identify who made them.

Back to bikes. The day my dad asked me if I was ready to ride without the training wheels, I felt like a teen getting ready to drive the first time without a screaming parent yelling, "WATCH OUT FOR THAT TRAIN TWO MILES DOWN THE ROAD! YOU SEE IT?" I was excited, yet apprehensive. I mean, would my dad be able to get me to an ER before all my blood ran out of my head should I have an unpleasant encounter with Mrs. Flomax's concrete wall dividing her lawn from the sidewalk? I told myself my dad would drive like the wind while my mother smothered me with a huge bath towel while screaming, "Faster! He's dying!"

I ended that vision when my dad snapped me out of it by cursing the little wrench that slipped off the rounded nut, causing his hand to smack against the bike frame, which was obviously much harder than my dad's hand. "Edward! Watch your language," my mother told him through the open door in the garage that led into the kitchen. Finally, the training wheels were off, and I began to hyperventilate. My dad shoved a big brown paper grocery bag over my head and told me to calm down.

He then wheeled the bike out onto the driveway and I followed. I didn't get far, because I walked into my dad's '46 DeSoto. My dad let out a long sigh and said, "You can take that BAG off your head now." The world came quickly back into focus.

I approached my red and white bike adorned with chrome and streamers coming out of the end of the handlebar grips. My mom came outside to watch, wiping her hands on a kitchen towel and holding a first aid kit under her arm. Slowly the bike began to roll down the driveway with my dad hanging onto to fender over the rear wheel. He helped me make the turn onto the sidewalk and continued holding on for a while longer...then he let go. I assured myself I was going to die.

All I could see was the front wheel as I wobbled down the sidewalk like some kid having a stroke. I kept my eyes on the side walk just in front of the wheel. That was a mistake. The next thing I saw was a huge dog on a leash right in front me. I closed my eyes, grimaced and felt myself flying through the air in the darkness (my eyes were closed, remember?). The dog was yelping and his owner, Mr. Extendz, was yelling, "Damn kid! What the hell is wrong with you?" I was tangled up in the leash, the dog and between two huge human legs. I felt the warm blood oozing onto my my body.

"DAD!" I screamed. "I am bleeding!" I opened my eyes and saw him come running toward the three of us. Mr. Extendz untangled the leash from around me and my bike, all the while the dog was barking loudly. He took his dog back in the direction from which they came; back to their house. My mom arrived a second later with the first aid kit, bandages and insect ointment flying out all around her.

"I'm bleeding, Dad! Don't let me die!" He just stood above me, watching me bleed to death. I thought he must have seen there was no hope in saving me. My mom arrived and stopped next to me--motionless. I figured she, too, saw her first-born going to the big bike track in the sky. Then they both started laughing uncontrollably.

"Oh, great! I am dying and all you two can do is laugh at me?"

"Son," my dad said,"do you know what blood smells like?" I put my hand on my lower abdomen and felt the warm wetness. I then looked for the hole where the blood was oozing out. Odd, I thought. Isn't blood supposed to be red? Then the smell hit me. It wasn't blood. The dog was either scared or really ticked off at me, because what I smelled was urine.

My dad picked me up by the back of my shirt and said, "Go back into the house and take a shower. Put on some clean clothes and we'll try again tomorrow in the back yard. Right now I have to apologize to Mr. Extendz and his dog."

Oh ,the bike, yeah. It needed hosed down, but suffered less damage and embarrasment than did I.