Last Thursday, I taught a ten year-old how to ride a bike. It seems weird saying that I taught him, though, because he was really doing all the work. It's more like I was there while he was learning and I told him a few things that helped him out. Ok. I guess that's pretty much what teaching is.

Thursday was Aaron's second bike lesson. I had come to his house for the first one a couple days before Christmas and we rode around in the driveway a little bit, then out in the street where he kinda started to get it, but only for ten or twenty yards at a time.

Aaron is the son of my mom's friend, Betty. Betty is the original jap. I'm not even sure if she's even jewish, but she seems like a grown-up version of one of the chicks on Laguna Beach. Among my favorite quotes from the twenty-odd years I've known her is, "I don't vacuum." (Who doesn't vacuum?) None of this is to say that I don't like Betty. I do. I don't know if we'd be buddies if I met her at the gym or something, but as a friend of the family, she leaves little to complaint about.

Betty coddles Aaron. My mom was pretty well protective of me when I was little, too but Aaron has to wear a helmet when he rollerblades. I had to wear mine while I rode bikes, so I guess it's kind of an arbitrary line to draw. But something seems silly about a helmet and rollerblades. Maybe it's just me.

On Thursday, Betty brought Aaron over to my parents' house, where I was staying over winter break, for his second (and final) bike lesson. As I was getting his bike out of the station-waggon, I asked him if he had practiced like I told him to. He said he hadn't but he didn't seem like he felt guilty about it the way I did when I told my trombone teacher that I hadn't been practicing ten years ago. I told him that it was totally fine that he hadn't; biking is about fun, and if practicing's no fun, don't do it.

Last Thursday, I taught a ten year-old how to ride a bike. It seems weird saying that I taught him, though, because he was really doing all the work. It's more like I was there while he was learning and I told him a few things that helped him out. Ok. I guess that's pretty much what teaching is.

Thursday was Aaron's second bike lesson. I had come to his house for the first one a couple days before Christmas and we rode around in the driveway a little bit, then out in the street where he kinda started to get it, but only for ten or twenty yards at a time.

Aaron is the son of my mom's friend, Betty. Betty is the original jap. I'm not even sure if she's even jewish, but she seems like a grown-up version of one of the chicks on Laguna Beach. Among my favorite quotes from the twenty-odd years I've known her is, "I don't vacuum." (Who doesn't vacuum?) None of this is to say that I don't like Betty. I do. I don't know if we'd be buddies if I met her at the gym or something, but as a friend of the family, she leaves little to complaint about.

Betty coddles Aaron. My mom was pretty well protective of me when I was little, too but Aaron has to wear a helmet when he rollerblades. I had to wear mine while I rode bikes, so I guess it's kind of an arbitrary line to draw. But something seems silly about a helmet and rollerblades. Maybe it's just me.

On Thursday, Betty brought Aaron over to my parents' house, where I was staying over winter break, for his second (and final) bike lesson. As I was getting his bike out of the station-waggon, I asked him if he had practiced like I told him to. He said he hadn't but he didn't seem like he felt guilty about it the way I did when I told my trombone teacher that I hadn't been practicing ten years ago. I told him that it was totally fine that he hadn't; biking is about fun, and if practicing's no fun, don't do it. You'll get better if you do, but if you don't want to - definitely don't bother.

The street in front of my parents' house is wide and lightly trafficked and it slopes gently to the southeast. It's pretty much a perfect street on which to learn to ride a bike. I can't imagine why I wasn't taught to ride on that street, but when my training wheels came off, it was in the alley behind the house. The alley has the same slope and orientation, but it's about one third the width and it's poorly maintained. The asphalt in the alley is bumpy and uneven, where the street in front gets paved about once every five or so years. Since I was running the show, we rode in the street instead of the alley.

Aaron picked up right where he had left off two weeks earlier. On the first lesson he was totally awkward getting on the bike, but Thursday he swung his leg over and grabbed the bars like a pro. I held on to the bottom of the seat and he picked up his feet and coasted unsteadily down the street. He only wobbled a little before he remembered what he was doing and got ahold of his balance. I reminded him to keep his eyes up instead of fixed on the front wheel and he subtly, almost instinctively, turned so he was riding straight down the street instead of slightly toward the parked cars. We went about a third of the way down the block before he grabbed the brakes and we turned around. Uphill was not as smooth as down, but once he got his speed up, he was moving pretty smoothly.

We went up and down that same fifty yards two or three more times before I could run alongside him and let go without any worry about him falling. The second time I let go, I ran a little faster so I could show him both of my hands while he rode. He said, "whoa." I grabbed back on and told him not to hit the brakes and to keep riding a couple houses further. On the way back uphill, I told him to remember how easy it was to ride down; it was easy because you were going fast, so if you pedal faster, it'll be easier to balance. He did and it worked.

Betty and my mom came out about then and Aaron and I took another trip down the block. This time he got going without me holding the bike up (we had been working on that too - i forgot to mention) and he rode all the way down to the far corner with me running next to him, but not touching the bike. It was awesome. I gave him a big high-five at the end of the street. It was kind of like a Sunny Delight commercial.

On the way back, he needed a little help because pedaling is still a little tough for him but he made it most of the way on his own. His mom was very congratulatory and thankful. I told him that next time I was in town we could go on a ride together if he practiced a little bit. I'm not sure if this was persuasive.

If you ever get the chance to teach a kid how to ride a bike, I suggest that you do it. It's fun.

-d