Do you remember learning to ride a bicycle? When I was about eight years old, I got a bicycle for Christmas.

Since we lived where we had snow, it sat in the garage until Spring. I was not a natural at riding a bike. It took days for me to learn the balancing technique.

My mother and my grandfather took turns holding me steady and running along. I had no training wheels. Finally, one night I took off on my own. I did not realize I was on my own until I got way down the street. I was on the sidewalk by the way.

My only problem was I did not know how to stop. I ended up in someone’s yard tangled up in a makeshift fence. They were reseeding their lawn.

Soon my mother caught up to me. Of course, she wanted to know if I was alright. I had a little dirt on me but I was fine. I pushed my bike home.

From that day on I got braver. I could balance my bike without someone starting me. I rode my bike to piano lessons which was across town. I used it to run errands.

When I went to the corner store for my neighbor, I broke a couple of her eggs on my way back but she did not mind since she was going to use them to make something anyway.

One day I went down for ice cream – a treat from my neighbor for a task I performed for her.

Of course, I rode my bike. I ended up with a cone minus most of the ice cream because it fell out when I went off the curb.

It was my favorite flavor, orange sherbet. Although that was probably 70 years ago some things you never forget!

My own children learned to ride bikes without training wheels either.

One night when I went to PTA, the neighbor girl, Cindy who babysat, worked with the children and their bikes. I think they learned that night and never looked back.

I taught my youngest grandson how to ride his bike. That morning before his mother went to work, she removed the training wheels. He was bound and determined that he could ride that bike. I held onto the back of it at first.

Each time he pedaled I counted how many times his feet went around before he tipped over. He kept improving.

When we broke for lunch, he was doing pretty well.

That night he was one very proud little boy when he showed his parents that he could ride his bike! I do not recall how his sister learned to ride. I think she must have worked with her parents.

It was fun to be the one who taught him how to ride. I felt a sense of achievement as well.

The other night I watched a father and his daughter practicing with a bicycle. He carefully guided her but she could not get the knack of riding on her own. She tried and tried but never was able to do it on her own. I have no doubt that she was going to learn, but not that night.

Aurora, the granddaughter in Alaska, sent me a video of her youngest learning to walk. He was rather a late bloomer, but he was walking on his own.

While he walked his older brothers were zipping around on their bikes.

They live off the grid so there is little around their home. When Don and I visited Alaska, we got to see their home. He worried about her since she was pregnant and lived so far out.

Learning to ride a bike is something that takes a lot of skill. You have to coordinate your hands, your feet, and your balance; however, once you learn it is something that you never forget.

Ann Swanson writes from her home in Russell. Contact her at hickoryheights1@verizon.net.