When I was young I was a really crazy kid that liked danger and was always getting in trouble for trying new things that are not good. Obviously trying new things isn't always a bad thing and finally the day came where learning this new thing will be a good thing. This new thing my dad was going to teach me was how to ride a bike!.
I lived in Juarez until I was ten years old and kids on my block didn't have a TV or a phone, game boy, etc., but what they did have where bicycles and bikes where how kids have fun until the moment they wake up until they have to go back home, so having a bike was mandatory. I was a quick learner and my dad decided to buy me a bike when I was four years old, the bike my dad got me was a mean glossy black bike with a horn that could be heard miles away. My bike now was just another competition for the kids on the block. I was so ready to learn but what I did not know is that how many times I was going to fall and cut my knees open.
My mom thought I was too young to be learning how to ride a bike and didn't let my dad teach me until I was old enough but she never really said until what age so I just figured she was just scared to let me ride a bike on my own. I was so mad my mom didn't let me touch the bike, my bike was in the garage perfect for the spiders to make their webs on it.
One day, I felt tough enough to grab the bike without asking my parents and went to the front of my house on the dirt road. My house was kind of located on top of a hill so the dirt road in front of my house was some what steep. I got on my bike and told my neighbor friend to hold me while I ride down but all he did was push me down the hill leading to my death. I got so much speed that when I pressed on the brakes the wheel just slid on the dirt and rocks until I went one on one with the only light pole on the street causing me to go flying against the pole while my friend came laughing down to see if I was ok.
