metanoia's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Training Wheels I remember my first �two-wheeler� bicycle. It was blue and white and had �fringe� on the handlebars, shiny and chrome. Of course, I needed training wheels to ride it. But that was OK. I had a two-wheeler! I was growing up! I wanted to ride in the street, because of course I was grown up now and had a two-wheeler and you could ride in the street with a two-wheeler. Alas, my parents did not agree, and they said �as long as you have the training wheels on, you have to stay on the sidewalk.� Shit. Obedient child that I was, I soon was riding in the street with my training wheels on my two-wheeler (which, I suppose technically, was a four-wheeler). That is, I would sneak around until I was sure I could not be seen, then go out in the street. Until one day as I rounded the corner and my father was at the stop light. So busted. My beautiful bike taken away for a week! An entire week! It was misery. I finally got it back and stayed on the sidewalk, wondering how the hell my parents were so magical as to find me out every time I disobeyed (or nearly so). I rode the crap out of that bike, careening around corners on only one training wheel, while the rest of the bike was almost parallel to the ground. I was a damned stunt woman. My point is, I got very good with those training wheels. I still wanted to ride in the street. So much more room and it just represented a larger world to me. I nagged my father until he finally said he would take off the training wheels and help me to ride without them. Day after day he would hold my bike as I slowly tried to balance myself, knowing those wheels were gone. I was so unsure then, it was like I had never been on this bike ever in my life; like I had not held those handlebars for hours and hours every day for months and months. He told me it would be easier if I rode a little faster, that I couldn�t balance if I went so slow; but I had no confidence whatsoever in my ability to balance, even though he did. Looking back, I�m sure he could see that I was able to do it by watching me ride, but at the time I just couldn�t believe I could do it. As I said, he would dutifully run with me riding, holding on to the back of the seat, keeping me balanced and safe. Then one day, I was riding along with him holding the seat and I heard him shout, �How are you doing?� His voice seemed so far away! I looked back. I had ridden about 200 feet without him holding me! My first thought was, �That lying bastard!� Then I realized, �Fuck! I�ve been riding two-wheeled! No training wheels! I did it!� I still thought it was a dirty trick, him letting go like that. But, hell, what was he supposed to do? He couldn�t keep holding me up forever. I had to realize someday that I could do it myself� What a world was then opened to me. What wonders did I see, what journeys taken now that I was two-wheeling in the streets of LA? The answer is many and many. My training wheels were gone and I never missed them. But they served a purpose, and kind of evolved into a sense of balance. So, I lost and gained at the same time, just like everything in life. My training wheels became my sense of balance, and that is still with me and will always be. That is, unless I get an inner ear infection� 8:58 p.m. - 2006-01-12 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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