My knees were permanently scabbed when I was a boy, a condition that lasted until I was at least thirteen years old. The scabs were badges earned through bike crashes, clumsy falls, and daring steals of second base, and just as one was almost healed it would be ripped off again and the process would start from the beginning. I was a boy.
Which brings us to last weekend's bike ride in the park. (There's video in the previous post, in case you missed it.) Leslie, Alison, and I all had new bikes, so we decided to spend the afternoon riding the trails at our local park. I was a bit concerned about Alison. Like a new pair of shoes, we bought her bike with room to grow into, which means that it's too big for her right now. She rides perched atop it like, well, like a girl on a bike that's too big for her. She's in control ninety percent of the time, but she's an accident waiting to happen the other ten percent.
Henry is an accident waiting to happen ten percent of the time whether he's riding his bike or not. Like most little boys, he's much more interested in pedaling furiously than braking cautiously, and doesn't yet have a full grasp of how the laws of physics affect him while turning a corner. Biking alongside him for most of the day was his sister Kate, the closest thing to a constant in the afternoon's equation. She rolled along, steady and sure, and the rest of us did our best to avoid her.
In short, we were a disaster waiting to happen. I was certain there'd be an injury of some sort before the day was done, but somehow we got lucky. When the sun finally sunk below the trees and the bikes were hung on the back of the van, Alison and I decided to ride home while Leslie drove Henry and Kate.
We rode along the riverbed for a while and then cut back into the park and cruised past picnic benches and baseball diamonds before stopping to watch the aspiring young juvenile delinquents hanging out at the skateboard park. There wasn't a great deal of talent there, no future Tony Hawks or Ryan Shecklers to be found, but apparently it was inspiration enough.
As we rode away and started towards home, I had a sudden urge to pop a wheelie. For the first time in twenty-five years, I pedaled hard and pulled up on my handle bars -- it was easy. Alison had missed this first attempt, so I called to her and did it again. It wasn't Evel Kneivel, only a few rotations of the pedals, but it was enough to impress a nine-year-old.
"Daddy! How did you do that?? Do it again!!!"
How could I resist. I'd try it again, and this time would be even better. I'd pull up harder, keep the wheel up longer, and be the coolest dad in the history of dads.
But here's the thing. When you're twelve years old and eighty-five pounds, wheelies are almost impossible. You don't have the strength to get the front wheel very far off the ground, so you have to pull up as hard as you can and still it never works. When you're thirty-nine years old, and at least a little bit stronger, things are different. I pulled up on those handle bars about as hard as I could and the bike leapt up from under me like a bull eager to throw his rider. In decades past the bike would've fallen harmlessly back to the ground, and I'd be left wishing I were cooler. Now, though, with an extra hundred or so pounds (emphasis on or so) my mass carried the bike up to the sky, leaving me behind.
I landed on my left foot, but my right knee dragged along the ground, pealing away a piece of skin the size of a silver dollar. When we got home I found an almost identical wound on the top side of my ankle. So I was right in the end about the accident, I just didn't know it would be me.
It's been a week, and the scabs are enormous. I might be thirty-nine, but apparently I'm still just a boy.
Some how I knew when I read the title that the knee would be yours. In fact from viewing the video I was waiting for the second shoe to drop. Mother of the 'Boy'
Posted by: Joann Ludwig | July 05, 2009 at 12:10 PM
Nice! I heard honey has healing properties. Do you have any?
Posted by: Leslie Smith | July 16, 2009 at 08:06 AM