Shooting Water Through My Teeth

I wanted a bike for my birthday. I was six years old and had long left the three wheel world of biking. But my only experience on two wheels was limited and I had not really learned how to do it well. Oh how I wanted my own bicycle. On my sixth birthday I got my wish.

There was a bicycle shop in town just a few blocks away from my house and to me it was a sanctuary, a huge store with hundreds of bikes already assembled and ready for purchase. But it had more. Of course there was a toy section with more Barbie dolls than I cared to look at, but also it had model planes, cars, and trains. For a six year old I could spend the night there if given the chance.

This is where I first saw the bike of my dreams. See the photo below. Get this, the bike came with two, yes reader, two handle bars, one was a standard set of high riding handlebars, but the second, OMG how am I even keeping myself contained, the second was a replicated steering wheel from my dad’s car! Oh my friends will wring their hands in envy every time I ride by. I want, no, I need THIS bike.

My parents rushed in one day when I was unaware and made the purchase. However, they insisted on putting the standard handlebars to make it a safer bike for me. I could upgrade to the steering wheel once I showed a prowess for the machine in general. Heck, I was going to have to start with training wheels anyway.

A simple blue bow was placed on the seat as it sat against the side of the house. I walked out to get my first glimpse after blowing out birthday cake candles and then it was mine, all mine. A classic scene from childhood is one where a parent runs attentively alongside a child learning the first balancing skills required in biking. I had training wheels for a bit and pushed myself to rid of them and feel earth’s gravity and align in it.

Within a few weeks I was down to two wheels and enjoying the spin-around-the-hood on my blue banana seat. I even dented into my savings and bought a flag that I attached to my back seat. I added a bell so I could alert passersby to be careful and to observe a high-class vehicular machine passing by them. All I could dream about was swapping out the handle bars for the steering wheel. Soon, dad please, soon?! It was my mother that was hesitant and cautious in waiting.

It was on an early June morning that I convinced my dad to do the swap. He had to work a midday shift so he had the morning free. “Come on, dad, let’s get the steering wheel on?! What do ya say?” I begged. “Okay, okay. You are doing well on your bike now. Maybe it’s time.” he replied.

With a few wrench pulls and some elbow grease the steering wheel was in. The best way to contain incredible emotion at age six is usually done by jumping up and down repeatedly forever. I was doing that. We got the bike out onto the sidewalk just in time for my dad to leave for his afternoon shift. I mounted the bike as he opened the car door. He waved at me and I back at him. It would be years and years before I would tackle a career. Today, I was going for a ride!

The thing about the sidewalk on my street is that we had a very average suburban sixteen house block, one house after another. The sidewalk was built by the town several generations before I was born. It was perfectly fine, that is except for the massive flaw right in the middle of the block, four houses down from mine and that is where I pointed the front wheel of my very, very cool bike. It was a drop of about five inches. My dad closed his car door, left, and I put my feet on the bicycle pedals and started towards destiny.

I could feel the finger grips underneath the steering wheel in my little hands. I tightened as I began. The feel of the wheel was quite different from the handlebars. I would need to experiment with this new form of navigation. But I could and would do it. Two houses down the sidewalk lay the big drop that was waiting for me. My dad, now gone, brake lights and all. I was approaching the sidewalk flaw. I knew it was there. I have had to navigate a thousand times on foot and tricycle. What I didn’t know was how the steering wheel would react to it. I found that out next.

As simple as you can imagine, the wheel simply turned ninety degrees (sideways). In college physics I learned that bodies in motion stay in motion until something stops them. My bike now with only one wheel in the right direction stopped. I did not. I flew over my prized steering wheel, head to toe, and landed on the sidewalk. I think the first body parts to touch down were my nose and teeth.

I can now squirt water through the air with the missing corner of one of my front teeth, a good ten feet. I have thought about fixing it but I find squirting water that far has actually come in handy a few times. So it stays.

The steering wheel was removed the next day.

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