Learning ‘Steer’

I do not remember my first bike very much. I know it was pink since every little girls bike was pink when I was a kid (I do remember I was disappointed over the lack of a yellow or blue bike for a girl). I also remember that it had the little 5-6 inch streamers off of the end of each handle, which promptly broke or fell off after one summer. I also remember that I was to ALWAYS wear a helmet which stems from safety rules on top of the fact that we lived in the mountains and anywhere I rode my bike was usually a steep incline or a gravel road. I may not remember much about my first bike, but I remember the first time I rode it around the yard.

I am not sure how old I was, but I know I learned to ride a bike fairly young because in the summer if it was not raining (and sometimes if it was) we were told to “go play outside” and we did. My parents took us out to buy me a new bicycle and my younger brother a new tricycle one summer evening after my dad got off work. I was so excited. Finally, I could ride a bike like a grown up instead of the tricycle I had out grown months before! After the installation of the training wheels my dad walked behind my bike holding on to back and pushing me just slightly to prevent me from falling over on my first ride. We were going through the backyard approaching the swing set, but were aimed at a large boulder that sticks out of the ground beside the swing set.

“Steer” my dad ordered.

“Okay” I said. Although I had NO idea what he meant. I was too young to have heard the word “steer” used in context enough to know the meaning. However, my dad can be stern when he is trying to teach you things and I was too focused on not falling over to bother to ask what he meant. So we kept on rolling toward the rock.

“Steer!” This time a little bit more frustrated.

“Okay” I once again replied, while the thought going through my head was “we are going to hit that rock. Why doesn’t Daddy just turn us?” Evidently the concentration level it took to not fall off made me obvious to the fact that I myself was the one that need to turn the bike in a different direction.

“Joy, STEER!”

“Okay” I feebly said. Now it had gone way too far for me to ask what he meant when he was saying ‘steer’; each time at a slightly louder volume. Still I was wondering why we were not turning away from the rock.

Well of course my front wheel smacked right into the rock. My dad stood up straight and looked down at me obviously confused and frustrated that I had just driven my bike into a rock. “Why didn’t you steer away from the rock? You saw we were going to hit it.”

Then it clicked: That is what ‘steer’ means!