Personal Narrative: My First Bike

I pedaled in circles on my deck in my backyard, the wood creaked as I accelerated over each plank. I felt like superman speeding to chase villains. The wind slapped my face to the right and left, forcing me to glance at the trees passing by. I heard my dad over the roar of the wind yelling at me to come inside. Then I crashed.
The first time I rode a bike without training wheels was when I was four years old. Kneepads covered my thick pants, my dad’s helmet hung loose over my head, and elbow pads were wrapped around my arms. My first bike was golden and green and we got it from Target. It was a bike with training wheels, but we removed them so I could practice. Therefore, it would be hard to stop and get off because there was no kickstand. To add on to this problem, the bike was too big for me. Even with these risks, my dad convinced me to give it a try.
My dad lifted me onto the bike and gave me a pushing start. I pedaled slowly and started moving. My ears turned red as the wind blew across my face. The trees and bushes zoomed out of my sight as I passed them. My worried face turned into a grin as I kept on going in circles. Then I realized I did not know how to stop.
If I pressed the break, I would just fall along with the bike because I did not know how to get off. Stopping with my feet is also not an

It was the same model so it looked the same, except a bit shorter. I jumped onto the new bike in my backyard with a bruise on my face. I put my foot on one of the pedals easily, without my dad needing to lift me on because the newer bike was shorter. I used my other foot to push myself forward. Soon I found myself speeding on the wooden planks as I had the day before. When it was time to stop, I had more confidence in breaking, and I pushed on the brakes and stopped smoothly as my feet glided across the floor. Later that day I was able to pedal myself all the way to the