Where You Want to Go

A long time ago in a galaxy far far away...oh...ummm...sorry that's the wrong story. This story starts a moderate time ago in a trailer park in Upton. It was there that my oldest daughter, sharing her fifth birthday with the spring had gotten a new pink princess bicycle. What made this bike more special than any other that she had owned up to this time was that it didn't come with training wheels. No, this one came with a matching helmet, elbow, and knee pads.

After a night of excitement, the morning came and she was up early with anticipation, because today, her daddy was going to teach her to ride that bicycle. I remember her standing in the living room ready to go as I strapped on the safety gear and explained to her that she needed to look where she wanted to go because when riding a bike one tended to go where they are looking.

The second lesson came about in the front yard. I showed her how to get off the bike without hurting herself. At my direction, she practiced the maneuver three or four times until I was satisfied that she could stop without incident; then it was to the road.

If you are a parent I know that there was a period in your life that you were always tired. This was mine and in all honesty, I was not in the best shape anymore. We made our way down to the Upton blacktop, me walking and her pushing her bicycle like a pro. Soon she was sitting on it as I tightly held the back of the seat. Again I reiterated to her that she should look where she wanted to go. She, with a busy mind only half-listened telling me she was ready to go.

I am unsure how many times I ran up and down that road. Looking back I would guess about a thousand but as I strained to fill my lungs with air I finally let go to watch her take off on her own down the road. She peddled about 50 feet when she executed a perfect tight turn and stopped, dismounting just as we had practiced. Then she ran back to me, leaving the bicycle where it laid, yelling "I did it daddy" and "did you see me".

As time passes we forget many things. But even now, with a memory dulled by the years, I have not forgotten the joy on her face as she wrapped her arms around this winded kneeling man. It was a good day. She ran back and got on her bicycle and started peddling back to me. She was smiling and laughing as she passed me heading up the road, turned, and came back in my direction.

She stopped at me and dismounted perfectly. I told her that I was proud of her perfectly executed turn and she was ready to try again. She, on her own, picked up the bike, and off she went.

The funny thing about Upton road, or at least that little strip we lived on, was that on each side there were ditches which were about three feet deep. I am pretty sure that she only first noticed them halfway through her next turn as I saw her eyes lock on to the one before her and her bicycle, in mid-turn, straightened heading right at it.

I was running before she and bicycle disappeared completely and when I reached her she was standing there straddling it, but unable to get off of it fully. I lifted her out of the ditch, gave her a quick once over, and asked her if she knew why she went in the ditch. Her words were simple as she looked me in the eyes. "I was looking at it," she said as the last of the fear left her.

I could not be any prouder of her than. seeing that she knew how to fall and remembered my words so accurately. After I fetched her bicycle she again jumped on it, and down the road she went. The trip in the ditch her last on that day, she made sure on each of the many turns to follow to look at me down the road.

I remember thinking to myself that there was wisdom in those words far beyond any meaning I gave them at that time. Sometimes in life, the dangers are as evident as those ditches were to her, and even if we know better we will sometimes find them as a temporary destination. But in life, much like riding a bicycle, if we keep our eyes fixed on where we want to go I truly believe we will get there.

About eleven years later I remember saying those same words to her as she learned to drive. Oh, did I mention that I only had to make that trip up and down the road with her? She was the one that taught both of my other daughters how to ride a bicycle. There could be another life lesson in that but it's for another day.