Too Big a Bicycle, Endless Determination

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Too Big a Bicycle, Endless Determination

Our family shared a single bicycle. It stood outside our kampong house, leaning against a wooden post.

When I was about twelve, I decided I would learn to ride it.

The bicycle was too big for me. When one pedal reached the bottom, my foot could barely touch it. I wobbled down the rocky path in front of the house, gripping the handlebars as tightly as I could.

The bicycle seemed to have a mind of its own.

It tilted left.

Then right.

Then crashed onto the ground, taking me with it.

The sharp stones scraped my feet and left my knees bleeding. I pushed the bicycle upright and tried again.

And again.

And again.

One afternoon, something changed.

The bicycle rolled forward.

The handlebars stayed straight.

For the first time, I was no longer fighting it.

I pedalled past our house and kept going down the path.