The Art of Forgetting: Bicycle Edition

Did I forget how to ride a bicycle? The short answer is yes and I’m embarrassed to say it hasn’t been the first time. In college I went to London and my group decided that we should bike inside and outside of the city. Hell yes, I thought, I’m in. How fun. An adventure awaits. At the time I wasn’t even anxious; maybe my anxiety has grown the older I have become and why is that? Shouldn’t age provide you with a sense of grounding maturity that you can figure out life, especially the things that you were taught, I don’t know, in grade school? But I digress. The point is I did forget how to ride a bike, twice now. I still shudder with embarrassment thinking of all the car honks and yelled profanity as I wobbled my way through downtown London, almost running into many a pedestrian.

So, imagine my trepidation when G suggested that I try out his mother’s bicycle. I have been adamant that if I want to live in Mexico and stay in one piece it would be better for me and all of the people in the Mayan Riviera that I do not drive a motorized vehicle and walking can be quite hot, especially in the summer months and especially if I want to get groceries and such, so that leaves biking as my only viable form of transportation. I didn’t even entertain the scooter, or better yet the motorcycle idea G threw my way. So, here’s the bike in question.

It looks so innocent doesn’t it, in its shade of pink, but do you notice there are no brakes on the handlebars. It’s the kind of bike that requires you to push backwards on the peddles, something that even my childhood bike did not have. Let it be noted, I did not want to do this. I was already having one of those low self esteem days, the kind that leaves you grumpy, annoyed, and very short tempered and now G wanted me to just try, that’s what he kept on telling me. But I don’t want to, I wanted to pout like a petulant child and wallow in my self doubt instead. But alas, G won.

The next several pictures will show you my journey, albeit a frustrating one, in the short 10 minutes this took. Yes, my heart was beating quite fast at how embarrassing it was that a 43 year old grown ass woman could not ride a bicycle and yes my hands were shaking. My anxiety, I’m afraid to say, was at an all time high.

I want you to notice two things here. The man that was casually eating lunch while I struggled in the first picture. I’m glad I could be his lunchtime entertainment. And in the second one you can barely see the legs of another cyclist speeding past me. This guy was at least in his 60s and whistling like he had never done something as easy as biking to work before. Meanwhile I wobbled along side him, sweating and grunting, red faced, a humiliated version of myself. I included both of pictures again, but blown up this time so you can see what I mean.

I eventually did get the hang of it. I don’t know if I’ll be zipping along the streets of Playa del Carmen anytime soon, but I did prove that I can in fact ride a bicycle and I learned a great deal faster then the very first time, didn’t I dad?