"I'll tell you what I think of bicycling. I think it has done more to emancipate women than any one thing in the world. I rejoice every time I see a woman ride by on a bike. It gives her a feeling of self-reliance and independence the moment she takes her seat; and away she goes, the picture of untrammeled womanhood."

Susan B. Anthony, 1896

Riding a bike is a skill I've taken for granted since I was almost 6.

The day my training wheels were turned skyward and my brother let go of my waist as he walked behind me was the first day of the rest of my life. At least that's how I like to think of it. I swear I still remember that feeling of euphoria when I realized I was balancing, peddling and going forward all on my own.

A couple of weeks ago, I was asked by that same brother to teach his 48-year-old wife to ride. On a visit from North Carolina, he found and bought her a fabulous "vintage" bike at the Salvation Army. Apparently, he'd tried to teach her before but had had no success. Maybe I should have left that part of the story out?

Sweat was dripping steadily into my eyes and neither of us was dressed right for our task. Slippery bottomed sandals for her and long jeans for me. When the idea was brought up, it was necessary to forego too much preparation, lest she change her mind. We found a stretch of parking lot asphalt we thought was beyond prying eyes.

My first challenge was to get her to stop talking. Then it was to stop thinking. Riding a bicycle, at least at this level, requires neither.

It was my first time to teach a grown person to ride a bike. I tried what works with me when I'm trying to learn something new - simplicity, repetition and a little "go get 'em!"

"Get the pedal up high and push hard! Get both feet on! And pedal like somebody's after you, and you have to get away!" She didn't take to my methods immediately, but I just kept on with my mantra. "Don't look around for problems. Don't worry about the nice lady about to walk across your path. She'll move. Don't think, just be. Feel the wind!"

I held lightly around her waist and walked fast behind her while I chanted "go, go, go ... keep pedaling!" So a couple of knees got skinned, but if you're gonna join the bike riding elite, somewhere down the line, you need a scar - for your story. The sun was still up, and I hadn't yet passed out from my below average tolerance to humidity when she'd finally gotten up enough speed to balance. I let go of her waist, and she was on her own. Just like I was the day my brother was no longer running behind me, steadying me if I should start to fall.

She pedaled around the parking lot, looking a little less than relaxed. I felt a rush of pride watching her. When she'd made 40 laps I flashed to the scene in Forrest Gump where Tom Hanks just kept on running.

I could wax metaphorically here and even try and impart some lesson - like it's never too late to learn a new skill, keep your lessons simple, or especially with these days of $4 plus a gallon gas, ride a bike and pass up the pump. OK then, so you pick one. And apply generously.

Sandra Webber is a freelance writer and bike rider living in Clearwater.

Published July 30, 2008

The Tampa Tribune