Every year, my extended family goes on a well deserved summer vacation. They rent a house called the “Lighthouse,” tow a trailer stocked with bikes, beach chairs and umbrellas, and high tail it to Santa Rosa Beach for a solid week of family fun. It’s like the Griswalds only without the station wagon. (We’ve upgraded.)
After thirteen plus hours in the car, they spill out like bugs, claim their beds, and organize the first bike ride of the vacation. Each event is a group event, equipped with plans, directions, and our mixed drink of choice.
This year, my son and I shared a slice of this adventurous undertaking.
We were fully entrenched in the whirlpool that is my family’s vacation. It swirls and dips and sucks you in like none other. I sometimes feel sorry for those that have married into the madness. J
Going on vacation with my large family is a lot like going in the deep end at the Raging Rivers wave pool. You know there is a giant machine manufacturing the waves with the suction force of a plane engine; you just can’t locate its exact location. So, you give up, have fun bobbing up and down like fishing lure and concentrate on keeping your head above water.
The first thing my son mastered was riding a bike without brakes. This could be another applicable analogy for going on vacation with the relatives. It’s akin to riding a bike without brakes. All go. No stop. Don’t look down.
This was not actually his bike. It was a little big for him. But, he was intent on riding around the quiet neighborhood. “Mom, just hold the bike,” he directed me while he climbed onto the seat and reached for the pedals. “Okay mom… now just hold on while I start pedaling.” So I trotted awkwardly with him for a few paces while he found his bike legs. “Okay, let go mom.” And released I did… “Be careful!” No response. He was already out of earshot or choosing to ignore me. Either way, I was nervous on two fronts:
A. He didn’t have brakes.
B. He wasn’t looking out for cars.
“Watch out for cars” I yelled in vain. He was racing down the street going faster than the 12 MPH posted speed limit. I watch helpless as he jets, head down, around the bend.
More relatives emerge from around the corner. They are jogging their first lap around the neighborhood. Exercising is much more exciting in a breezy, beachy setting. Midstride and nonchalantly, my sister yells to me… “Tyler is riding into bushes to stop.“ She finds this humorous and stops to elaborate, “He finds a bush and rides right into it to break his fall.”
Great. We are going to be asked to leave… probably by the same people who posted the pretentious 12 MPH speed limit. The neighborhood bylaws outlaw bush mangling I am sure. These neighbors are not going to be happy.
Tyler rounds the corner and I witness his technique first hand. “Hi mom!” he yells like this is perfectly normal and crash, there goes the bush. He brushes himself off and strolls the bike over to me, very proud of himself.
He has mastered a bike that is meant for someone twice his age because he is fearless. He needs a little help getting started and a bush to break his fall, but besides that, he enjoys the ride for all its worth. “Mom, look at me!” he yells as he glides down the middle of the street, pedaling away.
I am fascinated by his tenacious drive to succeed. And I want to bottle it.
He set a goal to ride that bike. He found help, got up, and overcame the weaknesses. Each step along the way, he could have let fear take over and ruin his bike ride. But, he didn’t. He believed in his ability and resolve too much. Lack of brakes – a minor detail – didn’t deter him.
But for so many of us, we lose before we even begin. We could take a few pointers from a fearless six year old. Don’t be afraid to ask for help. Don’t be afraid to try something that looks too big to master. Don’t be afraid to fall down.
My son wasn’t concerned about stopping or falling down. He was enjoying the ride. He got faster and more confident with each bike ride. Pretty soon, I just had to the hold the bike upright while he climbed up and sailed out of my hands. “Thanks mom!” he shouted. “No problem bud” I yelled after him. “Watch out for the rose bushes!”
