What is it about bicycles and boys (and girls, but that's just not as alliterative, sorry!)? There's something magical about the moment you get on a bicycle for the first time - the promise of freedom to roam, constrained only by how strong your legs and lungs are. In some ways, so much purer than motorcycles and cars - no licenses or registrations, no certifications or credentials, just hop on and go!
I still remember vividly, my first bicycle - it was blue and heavy - with fenders and chain-covers, my sister and I shared it. I used to sit on it and try to balance myself by twisting and turning even while it was standing still, way before I learned to ride. And then one summer morning on the grassy stretches near India Gate - me perched on the bicycle with my father running alongside, his strong grip on my shoulder to steady me. Wobbling along, slowly learning to look ahead, pedal and balance myself all at the same time. Like learning to fly, I gathered speed, steadied myself and he let me go. It was a magical moment - my breath loud in my ears and my father's happy encouragements sending me onwards.
Life was different after that.
More recently, I was able to offer the experience to a friend from Russia, she'd never learned how to ride. For a few minutes then - I was the steadying hand, the encouraging voice, the reassurance that it was ok, she wasn't going to fall and that she should look up, and keep going. It was a lot of fun - as much for her as for me. She's using my bicycle to continue learning, and that's great - because it feels great to watch her go.
And then I got this picture from a friend halfway around the world in Tanzania, someone who gives bicycles to kids, and gets them to learn how to ride. You can see it there too - the same nervous exhilaration, that heady moment when someone finally finds balance and speeds up and everyone cheers. Its just a simple, beautiful thing.
from a friend - http://www.gomadnow.org/
I still remember vividly, my first bicycle - it was blue and heavy - with fenders and chain-covers, my sister and I shared it. I used to sit on it and try to balance myself by twisting and turning even while it was standing still, way before I learned to ride. And then one summer morning on the grassy stretches near India Gate - me perched on the bicycle with my father running alongside, his strong grip on my shoulder to steady me. Wobbling along, slowly learning to look ahead, pedal and balance myself all at the same time. Like learning to fly, I gathered speed, steadied myself and he let me go. It was a magical moment - my breath loud in my ears and my father's happy encouragements sending me onwards.
Life was different after that.
More recently, I was able to offer the experience to a friend from Russia, she'd never learned how to ride. For a few minutes then - I was the steadying hand, the encouraging voice, the reassurance that it was ok, she wasn't going to fall and that she should look up, and keep going. It was a lot of fun - as much for her as for me. She's using my bicycle to continue learning, and that's great - because it feels great to watch her go.
And then I got this picture from a friend halfway around the world in Tanzania, someone who gives bicycles to kids, and gets them to learn how to ride. You can see it there too - the same nervous exhilaration, that heady moment when someone finally finds balance and speeds up and everyone cheers. Its just a simple, beautiful thing.
Posts
