As adults, why do many of us stop riding bikes?

I recall as a child experiencing pure enjoyment through the simplistic freedom of pedaling around the bumpy sidewalks of my hometown. I felt unshackled from the monotony of walking and inspired to explore distances that seemed unreachable off of two wheels. No place within the geographic parameters established by my parents was off limits. Several neighbourhood blocks was my world, the walks and paths my highway. My bicycle offered a sense of elation and an invigorated newfound independence.

Cycling also created an outer realm of imagination in my childhood. When I was riding, I could transform into a racecar driver tearing down the track, a spaceship commander exploring a new planet, or a motorcyclist leaning into hairpin turns to combat the g-force imposed upon me. Each time I set out and mounted that small steel frame everything became new again and adventure ensued.

When I became a father I could not wait to teach my son, Cash how to ride a bike. I wanted for him the experiences I had growing up and to feel the excitement of confronting a new and complex challenge. I wanted to test Cash’s understanding of the intricacies of force and the nuances of balance. I anxiously awaited the chance to coach him and to see him enjoy the fruits of success.

Instructing Cash on how to ride his bicycle came with its frustrations. He didn’t completely understand the concepts in my lessons, which often aggravated him. And I did not appreciate the attention span of a three year old, which I felt to be a nuisance, as he seemed so keen to achieve his goal of riding without training wheels. I suppose he has a genetic disposition of impatience inherited from me.

As we advanced through our lessons we began to learn from one another. I began to speak to him about balance in new and fun ways – the pavement became crocodile infested waters and staying upright was a matter of life and death. Letting him try to balance on his own I would count and catch him before he fell. Our initiative was to beat the total number of timed seconds while successfully balancing each turn. We reduced the length of our practice times and filled time gaps off of his bike with other amusing tasks like riding his scooter.

Before long Cash was successful in realizing his goal to ride independently on two wheels. It was a proud moment for both he and I. It was one of his most considerable accomplishments and a magnificent milestone. When he was riding, nothing else mattered but the wind buzzing over his eardrums and the pain of a concrete pummeling was numbed. His face exuded jubilance – sparkling brown eyes pinched at the ends under the pressure of raised cheeks, and a smile so large it looked like it hurt.

It has been over a year since that triumphant day. Cash’s interest in cycling flourished, which has motivated me to resume an activity I once loved and cast aside many years ago. Our outings are a time to bond and we smile wide together as the wind sweeps our faces, keeping pace with one another. His games are now our games and when we play, I am taken back to a time when I was that racecar driver, that motorcyclist, that spaceship commander. And in Cash, cycling has ignited his adventurous spirit. In his eyes I can see him relish in the simplistic sense of freedom that he steadfastly laboured for.

Teaching my son how to ride a bicycle was an enlightening experience. It taught me that the skills I learned many years ago might not have come as easily as I recall, and that having patience is a character trait that I should continually strive to improve. The failures and successes of our efforts helped me realize that often when we think that children are unwilling to be taught, it just takes a creative, positive, adapted approach to cultivate learning. Through this journey, Cash was able to reveal to me inspired perseverance and forged an elevated work ethic to apply to future lessons. His triumph over this complex task also instilled a new sense of confidence in him, blurring his hesitations to approach the unknown.

I am honoured to be able to share this gift with my son.