Again! As those words from my dad telling me “get up and get on your bike” after falling on my ass over and over from learning how to ride my bike, wombling my tire going left and right crazily then getting scraped up on my elbow and then falling directly on my face hitting the hard earth. As any kid growing up learning to ride a bike was the same thing as breathing, but getting yelled out to get my ass up every time to learn, made me resent riding a bike for a long time.

In middle school I was forced to ride my bike to school back and forth though summer and winter though heat waves and heavy rain and I hated each part of it; riding uphill, the pedaling, sweating all over, everything about it I hated. I even skipped school and didn’t care if I got in trouble from my parents just to not ride my bike, to the point that I almost got a fine for $500 for ditching for a whole week. I couldn’t think of anything else that would make me hate riding my bike but of course the universe and to hit with something literally.

 On one of my bike rides home from school I would take an overpass bridge over the 210 and it was uphill so I would race down from the top all the way to the bottom without stopping and without any care in the world.

Well riding down like the wind this big maroon pickup truck came out of nowhere pulling out to make a right onto the bridge, I tried stopping but my bike only on of the brakes worked because it was like a hand me down from my grandparents so it struck me hitting the left side of my bike and my leg knocking me down and hitting the ground hard slamming me and trying to use my arm to break the fall. I started to cry from the event that just happens with eyes sobbing out and a runny nose spilling out every. Luckily after parting myself down to check anything was broken I was fine but the person who hit wasn’t so because they just hit a kid with a car probably wasn’t on their agenda to hit but I’m always happy to give people a surprise and be able to make sure I was on their agenda. Then comes out this short brown hair Mexican lady panicking on what she just did saying “sorry, I didn’t see you” “ I’m going to stick around others don’t but I will”.

The next I hear sirens coming up behind me with two cop cars pulling, someone must have called the cops because the lady and I didn’t. They asked “ what happened” I tried to explain through the crying mess I was going through “I..I … w..was ..riding” “ you have to talk louder” the cop said. While explaining my mom pulled in her purple can and I told what just happened and her were on fire and looked and the women and my mom, she’s a strong woman who can handle herself so she started cussing her out in Spanish sayin “estabas en tu teléfono” and “ si los policías no estuvieran aquí, te habria jodide” and the woman was afraid for her life. The cops didn’t really do anything I don’t think because I let the grown ups deal with my problem, so put my bike in the van and to my surprise it didn’t break from getting by a truck. I went home wiping tears from my eyes and my mom comforting me when I got she gave me the longest hug and said “it’s ok if you don’t have go to school tomorrow” and that brought a smile on my face.

Until I graduated middle school I thought I was done with bike forever going to high school because I lived right next to the school on the same street. So my days of riding a bike was over I can finally not overreact because I had to ride a bike, not when I graduated high school that my mom told me that I’m going to need a bike to ride college and everything crumble around me, I thought “ not again” and wished that I wouldn’t have to ride that death trap not when she took me to go buy a new bike because I outgrew the old one. To myself I dreaded each moment or thought that I had to ride my bike. We picked out the bike that I was going to have to ride because it’s college and I had to or get hell rained on me from my mom. It was Tuesday, August 20th and I had to ride my bike from Rialto to Fontana my own d-day. I opened my front door, rolled my bike off the porch and hopped on and I started remembering all the moment of hatred that I had for riding but every time I brought something up it didn’t make me mad or made full of hate for riding instead I started to enjoy it, I felt good I was working out and have the wind blown in my face everything felt good all the hate had disappeared and was replaced with joy the time that had for myself to think and to be alone in a sense.

Getting more into it I started buying stuff for my bike like new tires and filling it up with slime so it doesn’t get a flat it was my own thing that I owned and cared I appreciated riding my bike in every form of the way.