I am a very simple individual, who often stays quiet, but will talk for hours once I’m comfortable with you. Many of my closest friends know some of these stories, while others may not. This is the story of how I learned to ride a bicycle.
I learned how to ride a bicycle at the ripe age of 22.
When I was 9 years old my dad bought me a bike whose chain kept on falling off. He assumed that I just didn’t want to learn and was using that excuse to get out of learning how to ride the bike. My dad decided to give the bike to a neighbor. It wasn’t until the day we took a trip to Oregon and this beautiful gal asked if I wanted to go bicycle riding with her. I shamefully told her I did not know how to. Alas, she didn’t believe me until I demonstrated. She laughed unceasingly. Thereafter, she offered to teach me. I quickly got the hang of it. Seeing how I did not fall, even once, she set out to make me fall – she screamed “¡Carro! (Car!)” I swerved to the edge of the road almost falling into a ditch. To her dismay, I did not fall.
That was one of the most interesting and fun experience I’ve had in my travels. The next day I left to Washington and a few week layers back to California. I have not heard from her but I shall never forget this experience I had with her.