The Bad Thing About Being over-Confident (Bike Style)

In September 24, 2003, it was a scorching hot autumn day just as the afternoon began. I, a kindergartener, was just like any other four year old whippersnapper. Everything seemed to me was either boring or a nuisance. There was nothing out of the ordinary until Dad brought up a pleasing idea. "I think you should use your remaining free time to start practicing your skills to sharpen your balance on the bike," suggested Dad while staring at a bicycle advertisement on our humongous Samsung plasma flat-screen TV.

"Alright then. I'll try to develop my skills of riding a bike," I muttered. My dad and I decided that since I didn't have any plans on my mind, I could learn how to ride a bike for the very first time.

            "Let's commence by mastering your bike skills with the training wheels on the sidewalk. Put on your helmet and pads first," Dad demanded. Meanwhile my dad was helping me put on my bike gear, I stared at the crimson red monster equipped with poorly conditioned brakes and a set of training wheels, and I imagined that the bike would hunt me down like I was the prey and the bike was the predator.

"Keep your balance Anthony. You can learn how to ride a bike if you keep your balance!" Dad shouted thoughtfully helping me balance my colossal sized bike.

"I'm trying my best! I exclaimed. Meanwhile I was cycling on the hot and blistering sidewalk, I smelled the aroma of the yellow dandelions which smelled like my mom's Chanel perfume. Every glimpse that I saw from house to house on my neighbors' spacious, vast lawns were nothing more than oak and pine trees, the golden and crisp autumn leaves on the cracked sidewalks, and sharp, pointy, and spiky pine needles lazily lying on the patches of dry, yellowish green grass. Remembering the wee, rickety training wheels rattling like a rattlesnake through my ears gave me the "chills" while I pedaled through Lacy Hill Drive, a long trail to a path of vivid varieties of colorful leaves in the fall. "Dad,...