bicycles. tricycles. icicles.

learning how to ride a bike is a rite of passage, much like learning how to play catch or swimming without your floaties for the first time. it’s one of the most unforgettable moments in a young, impressionable child’s life.

i was six years old. a frizzy haired, four eyed freak. before the four eyes, it was really just one eye. a cyclops, if you will. my parents thought it would be a good idea to have me wear a patch over my right eye in order to make my left eye stronger or in other words humiliate me in front of everyone and anyone who had the pleasure of crossing paths with me. pointing and staring was a common occurrence. the patch wasn’t your traditional patch. not the kind you wore on halloween to compliment your pirate costume. nope. mom and dad opted for the oversized band-aid. the kind that would sometimes rip the hairs off my eyebrow once it was taken off. it was awful. it was embarrassing. it was a real character builder.

after begging and pleading, my parents finally felt it was time to retire the “patch” and trade that puppy in for what americans call, eye glasses. i graduated to a whole other level of nerd. i was a geek with coke-bottle glasses. my bulging eyes and curly hair made for an interesting duo.

now, where was i? oh, learning how to ride a bike.

it was a hot, summer day in sunny southern california. my family and i were in the back yard sipping on lemonade and chomping on watermelon. this was certainly a pastime for the sardarian clan. my brother, who’s almost two years older than me, knew how to ride a bike. he was cool. even with those big-framed bifocals, i was desperate to be cool. i got on the bike, scared and timid, but determined. i told my dad to hold onto the seat until i was ready. once i got on, i was terrified. “dad, don’t let go,” i yelled. “okay. okay,” he responded. i kept riding, thinking he was still holding on. little did I know, he had let go. i was on my own. all by myself. at the age of six, i felt free. i felt empowered. i felt cool.

fast forward 20 years. summer time. new york city. my roommate and i decided to go for a nice bike ride on a sunday afternoon. it was a gorgeous day out. we rode our rented bicycles on the westside highway and central park. it was amazing. the frizzy haired, four eyed freak was back. frizz still in tact, minus the coke bottles, and now sporting sunglasses. at age 26, i felt empowered. i felt free. i felt like a kid again.