Summer 1989

This story originally appeared in the May 2021 issue of The Red Cent and is reprinted with permission.

Summer is upon us, and my five-year-old has announced that he will soon be a master of his bicycle.  Learning to ride a bike is a bit of a challenge when you live in the country because your only surface options are gravel or grass.  As his parents, it is our job to provide a “walking uphill both ways in a snowstorm”-type comparison to struggles such as these, and so my husband and I have counteracted all of his complaints of difficulty with our own tales of bike-riding woe – my husband was too busy farming to ever have time to ride a bike (none of that is true), and I managed against all odds to get myself up on two wheels on the rough-and-tumble streets of Grand Forks.