June 2024 Flash Lit 3.1 - Banana

The bike was shiny, hot pink morphing to white, banana seat and all.  It was perfect.  I waited impatiently for breakfast to be over so I could go try it out.

What seemed like hours later, I was finally there in the street at the end of the cul-de-sac.  Excitedly, I swung my leg over the bar, gripped the ape-hanger style handlebars, and discovered a problem.

 

This bike was a lot bigger than my old blue bike.

 

All of a sudden, my hands were sweaty on the rubber ends of the handlebars.  My toes in their scuffed sneakers only sort of touched the ground.  Everything wobbled.

 

Worse, my mom was taking photos.  Even at six, I knew that I didn’t want my embarrassing moments preserved for posterity, but I also knew that my mom was going to do what she was going to do.

 

Behind me, my dad said, “You can do it.”  He held the bike steady as I nervously put one foot on the pedal.  “Just pedal,” he said.

 

I took a deep breath, lifted my other foot, and pumped my legs.  He ran behind me, holding me up, and then I was doing it on my own.

 

Best.  Christmas.  Ever.