It was another warm spring day and my comprehension and acknowledgement of the world beyond 14 Maple Court did not exist. Nor was it necessary, for everything I could ever need lay with in that little cul de sac where I spent every day of my childhood. I had a customized playground built by my dad (swing set included), a great expanse of woods filled with the perfect climbing trees, and the large, goofy African American man next door, who, despite his intimidating appearance, sent me into a fit of laughter each time he referred to my moms snicker doodle cookies as "snicky dooties". After all, what more could an adventurous 6 year old need. It always seemed so big to me but looking back now the house was rather small. We had a one car door garage and I shared a room with my sister. There were always matchbox cars or dinosaur toys strewn across the floor from my brother and a dirty towel lay on the garage floor, evidence of the last time Sadie ran away. That dog would always escape and after hours of waiting she would show up muddy on the front step. But regardless she came back as she always did.

But never mind all that. I had something more important on my mind. Today was the day. The day I learned how to ride a bike. WITH OUT training wheels. As an elementary school-er that's like upgrading from a learners permit to a driver's license. It's serious business. My dad had been helping me with the training wheels. We would go out every weekend and practice. But let's face it, I was an experienced biker rider now. I was ready for the next step.

By the end of the agonizing 10 minutes it took for my dad to remove the training wheels I was more than ready to go. I was dressed for the occasion; pants pulled up, shirt tucked in, and shoe laces double knotted (for safety reasons). And I almost forgot the most important piece of my carefully constructed ensemble; the helmet. It was Barbie of course. It had to match my bike. Oh, my bike. It was the perfect image of every little girl's dream. It was pink with flowers, streamers coming from the handle bars, and a basket. And there it stood, gleaming in the sunlight, training wheel-free just waiting for me to ride it.

I hopped on we spent several minutes practicing and learning the rope. My dad would guide me around the cul de sac to help me keep my balance. When I finally felt I was ready he began pushing me faster and then...he let go. And I was doing it. I was really doing it! I looked forward and pedaled. I could feel the wind blowing through my hair and the freedom was exhilarating. I saw my dad standing proud and smiling at me. I looked back over my should and waved to him. He waved back at me and then I turned around to see myself riding at top speed right into our mailbox. I hit it and when flying through the air and landed on my bottom in my yard. I opened my eyes and looked around, still in shock from what happened. I looked over to see my dad laughing. It must have been a rather funny sight so I laughed too. But then the pain in my elbow began to grow. And my dad was still laughing. Was he laughing AT me? At the sight of my own blood I felt the lump in my throat begin to form and I started to cry. My vision blurred as the tears started streaming down my face. My dad ran over and picked me up and carried me inside. My wounds we treated and covered with band aids.

For a while I was scared to ride my bike again. I didn't want to crash and get hurt. But my parents pushed me to get back at it and soon enough the wind was in my hair again and I was riding fast. But this time i kept my eyes on were I was going and I didn't make that mistake again. And soon enough my elbow healed and I was the best little bike rider in all of Maple Court.