my first bike ride

My Blue Bike It was blue. It intimidated me topoint of tears many times. After succeeding to ride my first bike was magic, riding my bike was freedom. My dad thaught me to ride blue bike. My bike was the coolest, most special, better than anyone else's bike in the whole world. I loved to look at it, riding it was another story entirely. Daddy loved to just do things. My first moments on my beautiful bike were filled with wind through my hair, my dad's hands on my back pushing hard as I'm hurling down through my backyard. There was a brief moment of joy but it's short lived because what I remember most is the frightening pain when I crashed into the dog pen. Daddy had not taught me to stop. I screamed from when he had let me go half way down the yard until he picked me up, brushed off the dirt, held me and apoligized for about five minutes. It was his fault, he made me do this, and I was going to make sure he knew that. After about 27 more times of this I finally got it, I finally could ride a bike. I didn't take advantage of my travel possibilities right away. I would do a short run in the parking lot and be done, making all time I took putting on safety gear a waste. I didn't realize the possibilities yet. Om a monday after school little me decided to take a bike ride. I had a feeling this one would be different. I had had a stressful day in first grade. I put each elbox pad and knee pad on with care. When I was ready I trotted inside and asked permission to ride my bike and was answered with a yes. I was off. During this ride I no longer felt wobely, I was sturdy. I no longer felt nervous, I was free. I went faster and faster, gaining confidence with each push of the pedal. The more speed I gained, the more wind I felt. It hadn't been a chilling wind I felt, but a soft comforting wind, the wind comforted me like a rare hug from my mother. When I rode my bike I was able to go from the park to ????. Knowing these facts gave me a sense of freedom. I