by Jessi, San Mateo
I usually ride my bike almost every morning at three AM to the bust stop by the gas station. I go to the gym and then ride my bike back home by nine to get ready for school. I used to have a black and red cruiser with a cushioned seat. I didn’t mind the heaviness of the bike because it was easier on my backside whereas the old bike I use now has a seat hard as rocks.
I remember asking my mother how to ride a bike when I was younger. I had seen my brother and sister riding the blue and red one they shared and wanting to be included as well. She never did teach me but brought out my sisters old princess bike with training wheels on it. I didn’t mind this for the first few months but quickly got bored.
I wanted to ride the same bike my siblings rode. My brother was the one who saw me grab the blue and red bike from the backyard. He told me I would hurt myself trying to ride it alone and reluctantly followed me to the driveway.
I got on and he held the back of the seat and the left steering wheel as I pedaled. When he saw my hands and feet start to balance on their own he let go of the steering wheel but promised to keep hold of the back of the seat and stay close by. But of course he let go of the seat only a few seconds later.
I hadn’t realized until about half a block later when I looked back and seen him so far away. I crashed soon after I looked forward again. He ran to come and help me but by the time he had gotten there I was already riding off on my own again.
My mother had always told me I was a fast learner after she had witnessed me teach myself how to tie my own shoes at a very young age. I don’t remember how old I was when I first learned how to ride a bike that day, but I do remember my legs were too short to reach the pedals and I had to stand slightly on my tip toes to push them down.
My black and red beach cruiser was my favorite bike. I remember riding it home one night and being too tired to walk it through the front gate and all the way to the backyard. I had left it in the driveway between the tan wall and my mother’s boyfriend’s silver Honda Civic. It was gone the next morning when I went to take it to the gym. I rode my cousin’s dusty old grey bike now. It has orange details and its missing the grips on the handlebars.
Although the seat is much harder than I prefer, the metal bars get cold so early in the morning. I find it oddly comforting on my way to the bus stop. Holding the cold metal handlebars and feeling the rock-hard seat where I sit, I think of nothing.
My mind doesn’t race or worry. My palms free from sweat and anxiousness. All I feel is the cold. My mind blank. I indulge in the peacefulness I find so early in the morning before the rest of the world wakes up around me. My mother says I’m crazy getting up and going alone on my bike so early, but I think it’s worth it.