You Must Learn!.....
Demands your father! Learn to ride a bike!....
Oh shit! you think... if i pretend to still be asleep he may go away... after all it is still 5 am....
Your father has been up all night pacing the floor boards bare, where there used to be carpet... no lays building foundations...
The hours tick tock away like clunks of steal workers mouldings....
Ok long enough... he has slept long enough! says your eager dad... but its only been 20 minuets?! your mother protests.... and its still dark outside... wait until morning!
Morning arrives... still a zombie you get up out of bed... your father doing press ups and chin ups in the landing... getting the energetic motivation for a long hard day's work... teaching you the perils of riding a bike...
only last weekend he bought home this monstrosity of a bike... handle bars like bull horns... pedals which have your shins marked for death... scabs ahoy!
and that greasy chain.... lubricated up with extra virgin olive oil...
the breaks turned around (we are in England after all)
ok... on with our coat lets go! he shouts... dad... I am still in my PJ's!
and my toothpaste is foaming up....
after breakfast... your dad is now a nervous wreck.... he's chewed his finger nails up to his shoulders and the carpet is a state... mum ain't happy... Ok son... he says... placing his hand on your shoulder... if you should get injured... will you still love me?
erm... injured?... what is he doing to me mummy?
now now dear... it is going to be fun...
you look worried... she looks worried... the moths and cobwebs better come off that old World War Two First Aid Kit.... get the shrapnel removing pliers ready...
once you ate a hardy breakfast and put on your coat... dad walks you to your bike... in the garden shed....
it looks scary... where are the stabilizers dad?
Nope son... no stabilizers today... its the real thing!
Fuck... i am going to bed again.... ahhhh.... no you don't son... here we go... take a seat on that saddle and tell me if you like it...
...Dad?.... What?.... There is no saddle.... Oh yeah... click click... there we are...
you sit down... man that seat is made out of concrete and iron strengthening rods... my arse is killing me!
It gets more comfy when you get used to it....
you look out at the other kids cycling about... standing up as they peddle.... yeah right dad... what ever you say!
Ok here goes... step one.... always look where you are going... and keep peddling... steer with that handle bar and break with that lever... adjust gears with that lever and look both ways when you cross the road....
...And a partridge in a pear tree... man... do i need qualifications to learn this? a degree maybe handy
so you get the basics out of the way... and then you go to the test track... a strip of road leading to the shops....
no cars... no people... hence why the moon is still out... and only the crows to laugh at you...
One... Two... Three your dad holds onto the saddle whilst you peddle and without knowing it... you smile... wow dad! i am cycling! man... dad? you can run pretty fast can't you? dad?...... er dad?
you look behind... he is now holding a fence post twenty miles behind you... he looks up and cringes... what they don't tell you when you learn to ride a bike... where ever your head turns... your hands follow...
Crash! Bang! Wallop!
Sod That! You tried to kill me you bastard! you scream at your dad... just as he catches up with you playing twister with a hunk of metal pipes and spinning wheels....
Ok... take two.... Bollocks! you scream... i wanna see my 5th birthday!
ok... after an ice cream... which he had hidden in the left breast pocket... you get back on the bike... handle bars fixed and saddle back on...
again... and again... and again... now you don't need dad to run after you anymore... you are the Tour De France Yellow Jersey Wearer!
... well for twenty meters anyway before you realize... you are only going faster and faster and that wall isn't made of marshmallow
Dad screams after you... break! break! Oh God! Break!
survival takes over... cover your eyes... ok at 5 you managed to ride no handed... just then the bike steers towards that shop door way
A woman comes out with the news stand sign.... opening up for business
"Morning!"...... you say as you fly right past her and into the shop through the open door....
Crash! Bang! Wallop!
Twister with a baked bean can pyramid and lots of cat food metal piping spinning wheels and a check out lady with last nights newspapers all over the floor....
Dad?... What son?... gasp! gasp!.... I need a helmet!
Oh shit! you think... if i pretend to still be asleep he may go away... after all it is still 5 am....
Your father has been up all night pacing the floor boards bare, where there used to be carpet... no lays building foundations...
The hours tick tock away like clunks of steal workers mouldings....
Ok long enough... he has slept long enough! says your eager dad... but its only been 20 minuets?! your mother protests.... and its still dark outside... wait until morning!
Morning arrives... still a zombie you get up out of bed... your father doing press ups and chin ups in the landing... getting the energetic motivation for a long hard day's work... teaching you the perils of riding a bike...
only last weekend he bought home this monstrosity of a bike... handle bars like bull horns... pedals which have your shins marked for death... scabs ahoy!
and that greasy chain.... lubricated up with extra virgin olive oil...
the breaks turned around (we are in England after all)
ok... on with our coat lets go! he shouts... dad... I am still in my PJ's!
and my toothpaste is foaming up....
after breakfast... your dad is now a nervous wreck.... he's chewed his finger nails up to his shoulders and the carpet is a state... mum ain't happy... Ok son... he says... placing his hand on your shoulder... if you should get injured... will you still love me?
erm... injured?... what is he doing to me mummy?
now now dear... it is going to be fun...
you look worried... she looks worried... the moths and cobwebs better come off that old World War Two First Aid Kit.... get the shrapnel removing pliers ready...
once you ate a hardy breakfast and put on your coat... dad walks you to your bike... in the garden shed....
it looks scary... where are the stabilizers dad?
Nope son... no stabilizers today... its the real thing!
Fuck... i am going to bed again.... ahhhh.... no you don't son... here we go... take a seat on that saddle and tell me if you like it...
...Dad?.... What?.... There is no saddle.... Oh yeah... click click... there we are...
you sit down... man that seat is made out of concrete and iron strengthening rods... my arse is killing me!
It gets more comfy when you get used to it....
you look out at the other kids cycling about... standing up as they peddle.... yeah right dad... what ever you say!
Ok here goes... step one.... always look where you are going... and keep peddling... steer with that handle bar and break with that lever... adjust gears with that lever and look both ways when you cross the road....
...And a partridge in a pear tree... man... do i need qualifications to learn this? a degree maybe handy
so you get the basics out of the way... and then you go to the test track... a strip of road leading to the shops....
no cars... no people... hence why the moon is still out... and only the crows to laugh at you...
One... Two... Three your dad holds onto the saddle whilst you peddle and without knowing it... you smile... wow dad! i am cycling! man... dad? you can run pretty fast can't you? dad?...... er dad?
you look behind... he is now holding a fence post twenty miles behind you... he looks up and cringes... what they don't tell you when you learn to ride a bike... where ever your head turns... your hands follow...
Crash! Bang! Wallop!
Sod That! You tried to kill me you bastard! you scream at your dad... just as he catches up with you playing twister with a hunk of metal pipes and spinning wheels....
Ok... take two.... Bollocks! you scream... i wanna see my 5th birthday!
ok... after an ice cream... which he had hidden in the left breast pocket... you get back on the bike... handle bars fixed and saddle back on...
again... and again... and again... now you don't need dad to run after you anymore... you are the Tour De France Yellow Jersey Wearer!
... well for twenty meters anyway before you realize... you are only going faster and faster and that wall isn't made of marshmallow
Dad screams after you... break! break! Oh God! Break!
survival takes over... cover your eyes... ok at 5 you managed to ride no handed... just then the bike steers towards that shop door way
A woman comes out with the news stand sign.... opening up for business
"Morning!"...... you say as you fly right past her and into the shop through the open door....
Crash! Bang! Wallop!
Twister with a baked bean can pyramid and lots of cat food metal piping spinning wheels and a check out lady with last nights newspapers all over the floor....
Dad?... What son?... gasp! gasp!.... I need a helmet!
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