It is with great joy that last summer we finally became a family off bike riders. The task of teaching a child to ride a bike fell on me. Just like with other endeavors, it became easier with each subsequent child. It was pretty painful, frustrating and exhausting to teach my firstborn, but the next children were dramatically less difficult to teach how to ride a bike. I’m unsure if my teaching skills improved, if my patience was better, or simply my other kids were naturally more adept. After finally sucessfully learning how to ride a bike at the end of last summer, we put that task away for awhile and then had to sort of relearn again when this summer arrived. The other night, we trekked the bikes to the park and after an hour of quick joyful riding, #3 took her first big spill. There was gory amounts of blood, but when I determined it was from a nosebleed and other than a few bruises on the legs, we were all good. A good bath, a cute new ruined white t-shirt to be thrown away, and we’d be back in business. A few days later, it was Saturday and I wanted to take a family ride on the Portland waterfront. The bloody episode wasn’t quite a distant memory, but we had to “get back on the horse.” It was a very hot day by Portland standards, so we waited until early evening to get going. There was some fear, but we had a great trek and followed it up with parking our bikes in the sand and letting the kids play in the Willamette River. Great DAY!