The Adventures of Bike Boy

My attempts at teaching myself to ride a two wheel bike were disastrous and probably as dangerous as the planes the Wright Brothers tried to put up in the air before they finally got one to fly. But my entire life has been based on teaching myself first before going to someone else for help. And while it hasn’t always been the best or safest approach its worked most of the time.

The first house I grew up in had a large, sloping yard, enclosed by a cyclone fence. (Why we had such a large yard was never made clear to me. My father was born in Brooklyn and never gained an appreciation of nature or gardening or mowing the lawn. He was attracted to things cerebral and mechanical.)

Well, my plan for learning to ride a two-wheel bike seemed sound to me. I would mount the bike at the top of the hill, gravity would give me momentum and propel me forward (so I wouldn’t have to pedal, freeing me up to concentrate) and I would descend down the hill perfectly balanced and stop at the bottom – Ta Da! And if I didn’t stop on my own accord the cyclone fence would stop me. One thing I left out. I would be wearing a yellow rubber -raincoat - sans hood - to project me from the wet, dewy morning grass.

I ascended the hill, pushing my red two-wheel bike. Upon reaching the top, I donned my yellow rubber raincoat – sans hood - mounted the bike and began the descent. At the age of six, had I known something about the slope of a hill, or the effects of gravity on a mass in motion, I might have been prepared for what happened next. The hill that I was now descending, at an ever-increasing acceleration, was not smooth. It was pitted with small shallow holes that I had dug into it while playing with my Tonka construction trucks and from the many invasions and wars my army men had participated in over the past couple of years. As I passed over the holes, I could feel my teeth loosening.

As I bounced along, still upright and balanced, I noticed the fence getting closer. Now, keep in mind that all of what I am describing happened quickly and that I have slowed it down in a linear narration to help you visualize it. Back to the fence. The fence was getting closer. The time had come to apply the brakes. Brakes applied. No effect on acceleration. Sliding on wet dewy grass. Need friction. Wet dewy grass has no friction. Fence stops bike and boy in yellow rubber raincoat - sans hood. Bike Boy on ground. Sky spinning – or is Bike Boy spinning. Bike Boy finally gets up and pushes bike back up to the top of the hill. Bike Boy goes down hill, again…and again…and again…and finally, Bike Boy is convinced plan is flawed and gives up.

Bike Boy eventually learns to ride a two-wheel bike, but can’t recall when or how, leading him to believe that if you attack a problem, even a mundane problem, with a novel solution - it's not important if you succeed or fail because you will acquire a memory that you can look back upon the rest of your life; but if you take a conservative approach to a problem and apply no originality or novelty, you may arrive at the same destination, but you will remember nothing of the journey.

PS - Bike Boy applied the former approach to learning how to ride a motorcycle in Morocco sixteen years later and remembers the experiences of his two year journey thirty years later.