Bikes

One of the largest things I missed in life was riding a bike without the handlebars. Sad, isn't it? That a human could be denied such a thing as exclaiming to his raptly and faithfully staring father
"Look, Pa! No hands!"
Shocking. Another thing. Though people might have you believe you can never forget how to ride a bike, the annoying truth is you simply can. From the ages of six to twelve, I never once touched a bike. My parents were trying to teach me how to ride, but it always got put off. Not only could I not ride the bike, I had no chances to. Not to say I would have loved to, of course, because I was putting it off as much as they were. But, sure enough, one freezing Seattle autumn, my father decided to just teach me. At first he thought the myths told about never forgetting were true, immediately sending me off on my own on a somewhat stable mountain bike. That was until I made a horrible crash into a lamp post. So, after school, over the next few days, I slowly gained skill, and, eventually, my dad was ready to let me go up a hill. An ordinary hill.
But this was no ordinary hill! It was (from my perspective at the time,) the steepest hill I had even SEEN, let alone biked up! But, being the tremendously courageous young boy I am, I traveled upward in any case. Not so hard. Then I went down.
There I was, zooming past bushes and trees going as fast as four hundred miles per hour! Okay, maybe it wasn't that much, but it sure felt like it. Suddenly, halfway down the hill, I realized. This wasn't scary. I wasn't going fast. I was enjoying myself. And so I had learned to ride.
Recalling the past, it was the most horrifying experience of my life.
Maybe that's just what biking is.