This question brought back my childhood memories. The “firsts” are always cherished by everyone. Our wonderful brain may forget lot of events that happened in our life, but will totally remember our first experiences.
When I was in high school, I was eligible to ride a bike to school. We stayed thirty minutes away from school and I was commuting by public transport everyday to school. It was a painful experience to wait for longer duration at the bus stop, then, board a crowded bus with no empty seats, and stand firmly performing a balancing act with gigantic school bag clung to your shoulder, while painstakingly grabbing the suspended handles from the roof of the bus. I totally hated it.
Many of my friends had ditched public transport and started peddling their way to school on their new and attractive bikes. I was tempted to do the same. So, I approached my dad and declared my eligibility to own a bike and ride it to school. First, he wasn’t very happy with the idea fearing huge traffic and reckless drivers, but later gave in and brought me a bike – Hero Ladies Bicycle. I was overjoyed to own a new bike. I couldn’t wait to show it off to my friends and also ride along with some of my friends in my neighborhood.
First, I had to learn how to ride it. Every evening, my dad spent some time to teach me how to ride a bike. There was an open public field opposite to our home. We started practicing there. He first sat on the bike and pedaled with both feet and showed me how to balance. He gave me instructions on how to use the bell and brake; how to stop, how to drag the bike stand down and finally, how to lock the bike to the pole. Initially, he held the seat with his right hand and ran along with me as I started pedaling. This became a routine for few days. After he had enough confidence in me that I would manage sans his help, one day, he let go of his hand midway (without my knowledge), while I was pedaling. I realized it after some time when I reached the end of the field. I turned back and saw his eyes beaming with joy and pride.
This is an entry for Blogher Writing Lab’s prompt: