When I Learned To Ride a Bike
I actually don’t know the details of this story–you THINK I would, since it is my own, but I only remember the kind of bike I was learning to ride: it was a deep pink color with ~Barbie~ emblazoned on a part I couldn’t readily identify if my life depended on it.
Were there training wheels? Yes.
Was it scary? I don’t really remember. At this point I’d already swung myself into rose bushes, ate asphalt, and done a series of other klutz-tastic things that overrided being “wobbly on a bike”.
This is not me riding a bike! This is me making a sandwich–which is obviously a more pertinent life goal than riding a bike.
