Bicycle

Essay by lientaylor October 2014

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Happy Days The wind was blowing in my hair and I felt like I was flying; I can't believe that I was riding so perfectly. My dad was cheering in the back, his shouts fading as I rode down to what seemed to me as a limitless, endless pathway. It all begun on a frosty Wednesday morning; during the Christmas holidays, and this German piercing weather would have never lead me out of bed if it were not for today's event. At seven years old, however, the prospect of playing far outweighs the inconvenience of the below zero clime. There was a vital level of play to be acheived this day; I was determined to aquire the status of "bike rider". I can clearly recall the bike my father has bought me back when I was six; It was an old, rusty bicycle with some blue and white paint on it, my dad must have picked it up at a garage sale.

Although it was old, and not the typical, startling bicycle you would brag about as a child, it still was my companion everywhere and anywhere for the past two years. But, I have had enough of having to use the training wheels, after all, it felt less than an actual qualified bike rider, and I have set my mind on it; it was the day I am going to learn how to ride a bicycle without the supporting wheels. 19th of December, 2005. My palms were sweaty, and I had countless, unending thoughts in my brain.. "Ready?" my dad uttered as I was strapping my blue and white helmet - it matched the colours on my bicycle! - "Yes". I looked up at my father and I could see him smiling down at me as...