And They Rode Off Into the Sunset

I write a lot about our main beach transportation--by bike. There's a certain freedom spending a summer in a small town with a low speed limit and lots of sidewalks. At home, the kids could never ride around the block--our neighborhood is just too close to a nasty intersection--even though we live within walking distance of a coffee and ice cream shop. When we're in Ocean City, there's something kind of exciting, liberating even, about hopping on our bikes and going somewhere.

With Will on his dirt bike and Charlotte and me on my cruiser, Carter has been dutifully following behind on a smaller version of Will's bike with training wheels. Carter is the most competitive kid I have ever met and trailing behind him just kills him. Crossing intersections is hard, too. Sometimes, those training wheels just get caught on the curb and I have to maneuver my bike, with a baby in the back, while pulling a pouting Carter on his own.

We have spent the summer with this arrangement. That is, until yesterday, when Carter announced that he wanted his training wheels off. If you have ever met Carter, you know this is a child who speaks in truths. When he says that he is or is not going to do something, he means it. He is seldom rude, but matter-of-fact. Still, when he told me to take his training wheels off, I just wasn't sure.

The wheels, first of all, were on incredibly tight. I had trouble getting them off. I assigned Will to pull Charlotte around in the wagon as I struggled and struggled to remove the wheels. My fear was that Charlotte would not cooperate as Carter needed a few days of extra attention to teach him to ride his bike. Or, that I'd get the wheels off and, after falling off the bike, he's ask me to put them back on--and I wasn't sure I'd be able to.

Once the wheels were off, Carter and I stood in the back alley, as Will and Charlotte sat in the makeshift wagon bandstand. I held onto the back of the bike seat as he began to pedal. He told me to let go. I did, half expecting him to topple right over. But he didn't. He kept going. All the way around the block.

And that was that.

Of course, the event was not without drama. Carter is a dramatic kid. He never really fell off his bike, but he has problems starting and stopping. Every so often, while trying to start or stop, his bike would fall over. Carter would then throw himself over, rolling around in the grass, much to the alarm of passers by, who would run to his aid. He always gets up with his jack-o-lantern grin, never a tear. Carter made a friend of an old lady who is renting the corner house. She pulled Charlotte in the wagon while I ran to keep up with Carter. She, too, was in awe of his new-found skill.

Carter's only request of me today was to go on a bike ride. After errands and planned activities today, after dinner was the only time for us to go. As our summer comes to an end, night comes quickly. We watched the sunset as we rode our bikes around the block. Carter rode ahead as Charlotte and I trailed behind. In true Carter style, he chatted the entire time he rode. Since I was behind him, I could hardly hear him, but peppered into his conversation of one were phrases like, "I did it! I'm doing it! I'm riding my bike."

At nightfall, we pulled our bikes back into the garage. Carter pulled off his helmet, looked up at me and smiled. "I think I'm the best 4-year-old in the whole world. I can ride my bike." We think so too, Carter bear.