Graduating from our first wheels to the final set
Oh the power and freedom of a good set of wheels – where would we have been at different stages of our lives without them?
Riding in a stroller was our first taste of speed. I am guessing it felt good to go for a ride without someone holding on to us. We were free to kick our legs and stare at the interesting objects and people we passed on the street. It was likely a bit frustrating, though, catching a glimpse of something really colorful and intriguing for the first time, only to quickly lose sight of it because we weren’t controlling the reigns. It was probably then that we unconsciously thought to ourselves, “Can’t wait until I can drive.”
Of course, it was two wheels long before it was four, as we first learned how to “drive” a bike. My father played this game on us kids when we turned 8 years old. And even though we swore we’d see it coming, he fooled us every time. He’d pretend like we were in trouble and use that deep, growl voice, ordering us to come downstairs to pick up a mess we left. Scared and never the wiser, the trouble that awaited us was a brand new bike in the living room. Mine was so cool. It was a banana seat, three-speed Sting-Ray of the brightest yellow I’d ever seen. Finally, no more borrowing my sister’s bike – independence was mine!
After a few years, I graduated to a 12-speed. I never figured out how to use all those speeds, but it carried me where I wanted to go without asking for a ride. That meant I could go places my parents didn’t know about, including meeting the boy I was “going with” for matinee make-out sessions at the Fox Theater.
Man, did I have it made, or so I thought until my older sisters started driving. When I turned 15, it was driver’s ed that summer instead of sports camp. The decision got me cut from fall sports, but I got over it when I could cruise Riverside Avenue on Friday nights with my girlfriends.
Almost 20 years later, I still love to drive, and I can’t imagine not having a car. We take it for granted that we can always move and get somewhere faster because we have a good set of wheels. Sort of like we take it for granted that we can always walk and move by ourselves.
After two small strokes, my mom can’t do either as well now, and boy how she misses her freedom. Watching our parents grow old and less mobile is just part of life, but it’s hard explaining that to our hearts. They did everything before we did, so it feels strange and uncomfortable watching them struggle to do simple tasks we take for granted. I see the frustration in my mom’s eyes – the lack of freedom she feels having to hold onto her children’s arms to get around. But she got a little spark back when she graduated to her next set of life’s wheels – a walker.
Watching Mom use her walker reminds me of when I got my first bike. Like me, she’s still testing the speed and how far she can push it without risking a fall. But she’s doing it all with a smile on her face because she’s moving again. All she needed was a good set of wheels.