Personal Narrative: How To Ride A Bike Without Training Wheels

One of the most memorable moments from my childhood was learning how to ride a bike without training wheels. I remember it as if it happened yesterday, however it happened over ten years ago. It’s a process that most people remember doing as a kid. Not only is it exciting, but it’s a proud moment for a child. Learning to ride a bike marks a new chapter in a child’s life in becoming their own person.
I was seven years of age when my mother taught me how to ride a bike. We walked to the shed and took my bike out. First step in riding a bike is to take the training wheels off. The bolts that were sticking to the bike like glue were tricky for my mother to take off. Once they finally came off, I put my helmet on, because my mother insisted we

avoid going to the emergency room. Then we wheeled the bike out to the road, but after looking both ways for cars.
Staring down the long, narrow street, I felt the butterflies explode in my stomach. Glancing over to my mom, I could see she seemed uneasy, she only half smiled. Pushing that aside, I took a deep breath and climbed up onto my bike with my feet on the ground. My mom held her hands stretched across my back to support my balance. I then put my feet on the pedals and pushed as hard as I could trying to gain momentum. The faster I went the more I began to lose my balance. My mom still by my side, guiding me in the right direction. I slammed on the breaks and planted my feet on the ground to keep myself from falling over. After taking a moment to regain confidence, I decided to give it another attempt thinking maybe this time I would succeed. Placing my feet on the pedals once again, and I began pedaling. When I accelerated to a speed where my mom couldn’t keep up, she gave me a soft push and let go. For a second I had the hang of it, but I soon fell to the ground. My mother rushing over to check if I was all right. She said I was going to be just fine and to shake it off. My confidence was the only thing broken.
Moments later, I told my mom I wanted to give it one last try.

I stood up, shook the dust off, and climbed back up on the bike. I felt how proud my mother was to watch me try again. She chanted that I could do this. Taking in a few deep breaths to calm my nerves enough to place my feet back on the pedals. Once again, I pedaled as fast as I could to gain momentum while trying to maintain my balance. My mother still behind me supporting me. She then let go of me and I kept going. I didn’t fall that time. Finally, I could ride a bike by myself without help. My mother cheered me on as I rode my newly improved bike to the end of the block and back. Once I arrived back to her, I stopped and gave her a gigantic hug. A soft cry came from my mother. I questioned why she had tears coming down her face, but she said it was tears of happiness.
I can now understand why she was saddened by me learning to ride a bike. When she let go of me that last time it was similar to mother bird letting her baby fly out of the nest for the first time. That was the start of me becoming my own person and becoming more independent. Every mother wants their child to soar high, but they also don’t want their babies to grow up. But it’s simply a part of

life.