Photograph by Sasi Ponchaisang | Dreamstime
I don't think much about the things my father taught me until I see young girls growing up without one. And then I notice that the mere presence of a healthy male fi gure during childhood changes so much. And although dramatic, it’s also subtle. Therein lies the complexity.
When I was a kid, Dad was the one who helped us all learn to ride bikes, and drive cars too, I might add. There’s a time in life to learn to ride a bike. The falls hurt less and heal faster when you’re young and small. Also, when you’re a kid, you’re intent on running in a pack, which is a good motivator.
I expect I was a reluctant learner. I remember my dad holding both the bike and me up and encouraging me to take off. I fell some, including later when I flew into a tree stump and went over the handlebars.
Dad taught me on an old bike he rode himself. It was unglamorous and a little big. The idea was that when I learned to ride well enough to be on my own, I would get a new bike for my birthday, which was in June. In Minnesota, where I grew up, that is the mere start of summer and riding season!
The falls hurt less and heal faster when you’re young.
I remember that bike like it was my first pet. It was a nice color of medium blue, with a sturdy seat and fattish tires. It had a basket too, so I could go places and take things with me. That was important.
A bike is more than a bike. It’s independence. It’s proof that someone believes in your ability to navigate and be in the world. It was the most expensive gift I think I had received, so it was also something of a responsibility.
I was the oldest child, which meant that my bike was the training instrument for all those to come and for my parents when they wanted to run errands. I don’t imagine I liked it, but it was 1967 or 1968 and, frankly, no one asked me what I liked. It was important to realize that my bike was an important family investment.
I don’t remember that learning to ride took long. My dad tried to intellectualize balance for me, even though I think you just have to feel it. He’d brush the gravel out of scraped knees and elbows and encourage me to get back on.
I believed him. And I did. And it was important. Because if you can’t ride a bike as an adult, one feels there are things missing in one’s life. For one, a bike and balance and tipping were some of the earliest obstacles I overcame. It’s important to know you can persevere.
The teenager I mentor now cannot ride a bike. She’s 16. After all the movies, and lunches and miles I’ve put on my car running to and from with her, I’ve decided that the real mark of our time should be mastering a bike.
We’ve tried.
A couple of weeks ago, the blessed fireman who lives in my neighborhood came over to help, apologizing that he was shirtless and sweaty. He called her “Sweetheart” and talked to her about balance and concentrating and why it’s harder if you go slow.
I saw her relax against his strength. She believed he would hold her up. We tried again the next week, to a similar exhausted, disappointed ending.
I can see all that’s against her and how hard it is to take off with her baggage throwing off the already-shaky dynamic. Later, she summarized the whole of her fatherless and neglected upbringing in one short sentence.
“I wished someone would have helped me with this when I was little.”
I shiver a little when I hear her plaintive voice saying those words. Someday, she will realize how deep the loss is. And how unfair her life has been and how serious the ramifications are. I don’t know what to do about that. I do know that to somehow be in motion can mitigate pain and loss. And moving forward on your own power is important symbolism the brain and heart seem to understand simultaneously.
For all that is important about female power and confidence, let’s never forget the power of male energy, particularly a father’s energy for his children. My mother would not have known how to teach me to ride a bike. If she had tried, it would have been prolonged and more painful. Lots of things are better if they happen fast.
I want to thank my dad for being my dad, and for knowing how important it is that a kid learns to ride a bike. I doubt he’d ever taught anyone before he taught me, and he did just fi ne. I wish there were more of them.
