The First Time I Rode a Bike

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Remember the first time you rode a bike? The scary thrill that came along as you peddled down the sidewalk, and how enjoyable it was. I do. My first bike ride without training wheels was when I was five, and terrified for my life. The bike was a blue, white seated two wheeler that had a basket in the front. The event stuck in my head because it was the first thing I can remember my father and I doing together. This is the story of my first bike ride with my dad. The training wheels are coming off today was the first thing my father said at the breakfast table. Mom just finished a batch of her secret ingredient blue berry pancakes with butter on top. Walking outside that morning I could remember how hot the burning sun was and how there wasn’t a cloud in the sky. My dad was standing beside the blue bike checking the air pressure in the tires, and making sure the seat wasn’t too low. The first time I got on the bike I fell to the side because I wasn’t balanced on the bike. My dad held the bike in position while I got on. And he held on. Dad waited patiently for me to get use to balance on the bike before he let go. However my main concern was peddling. My initial try had me on the ground again because I couldn’t balance and peddle at the same time. My dad held the bike and pushed me until I got the hang of peddling, which took a while. By the time I got the hang of it the sun was going down so he said we could continue tomorrow on the stopping. At dinner my mom cooked my favorite foods cause of the hard work I put in. The next day was the same. I fell getting on, couldn’t balance to save my life and the peddling was a nightmare. The only way I could stop was by falling to the side. My first scape had tears coming to my eyes. The red angry bruise was the first of many. My cuts and bruises were stacking up. And mom started to complain about having to patch me up at

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