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The First Time

31/3/2022

 
It was a Saturday, I remember because it was to become a pivotal moment in my life. One to be savoured and laid down as a ‘Forever’ memory. I was eight years old, and it was the first time that I’d experienced achievement. The feeling of strength and power that ran through my body as I reached my goal was intoxicating. I felt invincible and remember it vividly as if it were yesterday.

My tatty black bike was far too big for me. And because it used to belong to my brother, it had a crossbar, so my first challenge was simply to get on it. Stradling the cross bar, I could just touch the ground with the tip of my left toe, with my right leg waving about, desperately trying to find the pedal.

I don’t like to give up, but it was precarious as the bike kept falling over even before I had chance to ride it. And ride it I would, my determination was steadfast, with the injuries to prove it. I had huge grazes on my elbows, with great yellow and purple bruises where I kept hitting my hips on the unforgiving concrete when I tumbled. Injuries which would cause my Mum to raise her eyebrows, a terrifying prospect which I put to the back of my mind.

Then I had a bit of luck. “Maisie, Maisie. Would you like some help?” It was Bryan, my friend’s dad from across the road. “We’ll go to the park. Falling on grass will be less painful for you.” His offer came just at the right moment.

Before your eyebrows raise, like my Mum’s, this was the 60s. The kids played in the streets all day with little supervision, unlike the poor souls of today who are watched over morning, noon, and night. We were free, different times and this was one of the good bits, although many other bits weren’t quite so good.

Bryan held the bike, whilst I steadied myself on the saddle, right foot poised on the pedal to push. “OK, get ready, I’ll support you for the first 20 yards then you’re on your own.”

Off we went and I wobbled and weaved and managed a further 10 yards before I fell off. The ground was softer to land on, but the long grass made peddling harder. This continued for countless more times until Bryan had a brainwave.

“Try going round in a long, left hand circle, as that’s the way you tend to fall,” he suggested. So that’s exactly what I did, and I was off, wind in my face, peddling for all I was worth - it worked. Round and round I went, shrieking at the top of my voice, I never wanted to stop.

That moment inspired me to ride. I become an Individual Pursuit, Olympic champion. I still go to the Velodrome today with my friend who coaches at weekends, but I don't go there on a Saturday.

© Jonathan Wainwright
Sheena
8/5/2022 04:10:58 pm

I loved the description of this child's determination to learn to ride a bike and the thrill of succeeding. The ending seemed a little abrupt though, and I wasn't sure why the narrator never went to the velodrome on a Saturday. Maybe the paragraph about how things were different in the sixties could have been shortened to allow more words for the ending. 3 marks

Mary McEnery
8/5/2022 04:11:43 pm


Thanks for inviting me to read your work.
This is a lovely memoir story. Learning to master riding a bicycle is something that most readers will relate to.
Your comments midway in the story re life in the sixties were telling. Saying a lot with a few words. Great.
I spend a lot of time thinking about the ending, but could not figure out why you don’t go there on a Saturday, and I didn’t get it.
Your story has potential, so I would rework the ending. I loved your title.
I score it a 3

Gip
8/5/2022 04:12:05 pm

The second paragraph really brought back memories. That initial sensation of fear and excitement while trying to reach the pedals and keep from falling over was spot on. It's a sweet story with good wording, though the ending confused me also. I score it at 4.

Vivienne
8/5/2022 04:12:27 pm

I echo the above about a sweet story - evocative of the era when things were different. Sadly, these tales do have to have context now, or people might assume all sorts! You did that with humour. I got the ending... but I did think there should have been more development of that. In fact, 'you' could well have been the one nurturing those as Bryan did. I hate doing the scoring! But I think a 4 - mainly because, I feel you ran out of words. Why am I doing it at all? Because you're brave enough to put it out there! Thank you for letting me read it.

Secret Attic
8/5/2022 04:12:53 pm

I wasn't too sure why he didn't go there on a Saturday either, but you did remind me of how good things were back in the 60s!
Score: 3

Jeff Jones
8/5/2022 04:13:13 pm

The start is intriguing and draws you in - I immediately wanted to know what this achievement was and the sense of determination is almost palpable. I did worry that the story was going to take a darker turn when you mentioned the neighbour offering to take her to the local park, but thankfully that wasn't the case. I like the way their love of bike riding morphed into so much more later in life, but that didn't really explain why they didn't go there on a Saturday anymore. Lovely story though. Well done. 3

Rachel
8/5/2022 04:13:32 pm

Lovely story and well written. I was right there with them riding the bike. Ending was a nice touch seeing how far they go with it, but as to why they don't go there on Saturdays... I didn't get it, which left me feeling confused.
Score:4

Lou
8/5/2022 04:13:52 pm

This was a well-written story with a gentle nostalgic atmosphere. I understood the Saturday reference but didn't feel it was as clear as it might be. SCORE: 3

Jillikins961
8/5/2022 04:14:44 pm

This brought back memories of learning to ride a bike when I was younger and I liked the nostalgic feel. I wondered why the protagonist didn't go to the velodrome on a Saturday, which kind of limited my enjoyment at the end. So tricky with a word limit.
Score: 3

RT Hardwick
8/5/2022 04:15:09 pm

I enjoyed this - nostalgic, gentle, specious, maybe a little technical for non-cyclists? I think the adjective 'tatty'is a little grating and out of place with the literary nature of the rest of the narrative. So difficult to engineer a satisfactory ending with a word limit of 500 words and a phrase like the one given us here. I think most people, including myself, struggled with it. 3 points.


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