The Almost Bike Gang

Ok. Take a breath. All is well, or will be. My daughter just had her first significant bike wreck on the way to school. She is fine now.

It was the first morning ride to school for the new bike gang. For months now, these three blonde girls have been scootering up the sidewalks, leaving me in their dust. That is, of course, unless they get tired going up the big hill and need a little (read a ton) of motivation.

Scooters are so last month. Our daughter—more like Katie’s daughter in this particular situation—decided that days after my bike-loving father-in-law passed away, that she was going to ride her bike without training wheels. And ride she did. It just came naturally, and she was off! We’ve already ridden on multiple long-distance family bike rides, and I bet she’s put 100 miles on her new, more fitting, bicycle.

Everything is easy and natural until it isn’t. We texted the group and prepared for the first ride of the bike gang. Our 3rd-grader walked out the front door with the most confidence. She rode the school route for the first time yesterday, and today, Tuesday, would be the day the bike gang assembles.

I rode my bike around the back alley to meet her out front. She smiled and asked, “Are you ready?” And then she confidently pedaled over the curb to tackle the first incline. A neighbor honked his horn to say hello. She looked over her left shoulder, just two car-lengths up the road, and then her derailer made a loud click. My guess is that she tried to shift too many gears at once, and the tension left her pedals momentarily. But that was all it took. One moment. She wobbled left and then veered sharply to the right, slamming into a parked white car with a thud and a slight squeak.

“Am I OK?” she breathlessly asked, holding back tears.

“Yes, baby.”

A skinned knee, a black line from rubber meeting shin, a small scrape on the ankle, and a barrage of tears—she is OK. But this one is going to physically sting for a little while and mentally sting for a long while. I say that—through the tears, she was asking if she could still ride her bike to school.

A note about the car: The white car door has a nice black line now. I could not tell if there was a new dent. After we cleaned up and came back outside, the car was gone. I noticed it had an Irvine Nature Center Staff hang tag, so I called Irvine and left my name and number. I’ve never seen that car in the neighborhood before, so I’ll see what happens there.

It strikes me that everything changed in just a moment. The situation could have been much worse had that car not broken her fall. But it was just a moment. I love that little girl so much, and this is helping me to reflect on the need to value the little moments. Perhaps the need is to value each breath.

We drove the car to school this morning and had the opportunity to walk a little way hand in hand. All is well. Take a breath.

Much love.

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