After church and a nice lunch with friends, The Boy and I headed out to try and find him a bike. A friend suggested we try to buy a used one, which I thought was rather thrifty. That didn’t work out so well. The bikes we were able to find were either girl bikes, or worse, not very safe.

When I told Brooks we’d have to buy a new one, he groaned. He knows I’m not too great at putting things together, let alone reading instructions. This was going to be a challenge! After finding a bike we hurried home where Little Brooks excitedly helped find all our tools (I should say my mom’s tools, since she buys them and solely uses them). I had envisioned a box full of a hundred different odd looking pieces. It wasn’t that bad, which I think made me feel more confident than I should have.

We did manage to put the bike together in a reasonable amount of time. Brooks loved using all the tools and even helped decipher some of the images for me on the manual. The only problem we ran into was attaching the brakes (I really considered quiting, but poor LB must have seen that look on my face because all of a sudden he got very encouraging in his remarks regarding my mechanical abilities). Hey, sometimes we all need a little encouragement!

 

After that fiasco, lo and behold, our air pump was MIA. Of course that would happen. I knew we had used it recently to pump up a basketball so I was pretty miffed. I’m so good about keeping the house organized and yet the pump is still missing. I’m sure we’ll find it when we have absolutely no use for it. There must be some universal law about that, because it always holds true around here.

Off we went, assembled bike and all, to the nearest shoppette to inflate the tires. Back home we went. Little Brooks was so excited he pulled the bike out of the car all by himself. Off we went to try our hand at bike riding. My mother taught me how to ride my bike by encouraging me to use the sidewalk for leverage if I began to tip over. That’s really all I remember. Yet, everyone else seems to have learned by an adult running alongside while holding onto the seat. I decided that majority rules and went with that method. Mind you, I hadn’t been able to change from church, so I was in a dress. And sandals.

We must have gone up and down the street forty times easy. Forty times! Every time I let go, because he was balancing himself, he’d look down, look at me and start to wobble. And then he’d tip over. Have I mentioned that he avoids injury like the plague? I’m mightily impressed that several times when he should have ended up scraped and bruised he would somehow end up on the grass and then would tumble. Seriously, a few times we were no where near the curb. How he does it I do not know.

Needless to say, today was definitely: bike riding, take one.

He gave himself a big ol’ pep talk on the way in, we chuckled about all his near misses and then I laid on the coach for fifteen minutes to catch my breath. Maybe it was twenty-five.

Tomorrow we’ll be out there again, because according to Brooks he doesn’t want to be eighteen and still working on riding his bike. I don’t want that either.

 

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