I have a distinct memory of when I learned how to ride a bike. Mine was a bright red, single-speed Schwinn bicycle. There were no hand brakes. It was the kind of bike where you pushed the pedals in reverse to slow down. There was a Mickey Mouse bell mounted on the left handlebar.
I remember my brother and my dad installing the training wheels and trying to help me figure out how to ride a bike. I always felt like I was going to tip over when I leaned left or right against one of the training wheels. I remember my hands trembling on the handlebars, jerking the wheel left and right as I tried to maintain balance. I was overwhelmed with everything I had to do. You have to look where you are going. Keep yourself balanced so you don't tip over. Adjust your feet and legs so that you don't go too fast. Learn how to brake slowly so you don't launch yourself arse over tit.
One day, I took the training wheels off by myself. I finally learned how to ride the bike, and the maiden voyage was on the sidewalk in front of my childhood home. No one else was around to witness it. All of a sudden, it was super easy. The toughest part was getting started and then coming to a stop. Once I was rolling, it was almost like I was one with the bike. It was an exhilarating experience.
Is there a proper way to teach someone how to ride a bike or do people just figure it out somehow? It's rather magical when you think about it. There is the notion that once you learn how to ride a bike, you never forget.
I just returned from my invigorating morning bike ride around the neighborhood. My routine was altered because Steve took my car to travel to the ATV location to spring his surprise on his brother Jim and nephew Collin. My spare garage door opener was not working, so I had to enter and exit through my front door in order to close/open the garage door and park my bike in the garage.
In front of my house, I executed an unusual tight turn. I noticed my hands automatically jerked right and left to keep my balance. It occurred to me that I did not consciously make these movements, and it reminded me of when I first learned how to ride a bike. Back then, I was intensely focused on the activity. Now, I don't even consciously think about it. Somewhere deep in my neural circuitry, the neurons that took the reigns when I was a kid kicked the well-worn pathways into action.
Riding a bike is a great example of how our brains and bodies function without conscious control. It has me thinking about other activities (good and bad) that I may be doing without even realizing it.
I remember my brother and my dad installing the training wheels and trying to help me figure out how to ride a bike. I always felt like I was going to tip over when I leaned left or right against one of the training wheels. I remember my hands trembling on the handlebars, jerking the wheel left and right as I tried to maintain balance. I was overwhelmed with everything I had to do. You have to look where you are going. Keep yourself balanced so you don't tip over. Adjust your feet and legs so that you don't go too fast. Learn how to brake slowly so you don't launch yourself arse over tit.
One day, I took the training wheels off by myself. I finally learned how to ride the bike, and the maiden voyage was on the sidewalk in front of my childhood home. No one else was around to witness it. All of a sudden, it was super easy. The toughest part was getting started and then coming to a stop. Once I was rolling, it was almost like I was one with the bike. It was an exhilarating experience.
Is there a proper way to teach someone how to ride a bike or do people just figure it out somehow? It's rather magical when you think about it. There is the notion that once you learn how to ride a bike, you never forget.
I just returned from my invigorating morning bike ride around the neighborhood. My routine was altered because Steve took my car to travel to the ATV location to spring his surprise on his brother Jim and nephew Collin. My spare garage door opener was not working, so I had to enter and exit through my front door in order to close/open the garage door and park my bike in the garage.
In front of my house, I executed an unusual tight turn. I noticed my hands automatically jerked right and left to keep my balance. It occurred to me that I did not consciously make these movements, and it reminded me of when I first learned how to ride a bike. Back then, I was intensely focused on the activity. Now, I don't even consciously think about it. Somewhere deep in my neural circuitry, the neurons that took the reigns when I was a kid kicked the well-worn pathways into action.
Riding a bike is a great example of how our brains and bodies function without conscious control. It has me thinking about other activities (good and bad) that I may be doing without even realizing it.
I can't remember exactly but they say the better way is to have the kid like walk alongside while carrying the bike for hours and eventually they'll be able to ride it.