Kids These Days….

 I have never had children.  So, I don’t know what it’s like to teach one’s kid how to ride a bike.

As satisfying as such an experience may be, I imagine it was never easy.  And it probably is even more complicated today:

You Never Forget

Once you learn, you never forget how to ride a bike.

Is the same true for running a country?

Some would argue that no one ever learns how to do it in the first place--or that by the time you've learned how to do it, it's too late.

I'll stick to bike riding, thank you! 

The Original Sports Technology?

Last week, many of us gave thanks for one thing or another on the American holiday dedicated to expressing gratitude by engorging one's self with food.

Some of us were grateful for family and friends; others, simply to be alive. Then there are those who were grateful to stores for opening an hour earlier than they did last year.  You know what they say:  Early bird gets the bargains.

Well, all right, I don't know who said that.  But a fellow named Tom Taylor and I both gave thanks for...you guessed it...the bicycle.  Of course, we are both happy that a thing that gives us so much pleasure was ever invented.  He, however, gives another really good reason to be happy that the Draisienne, or whatever you consider the first bicycle, was invented.

You see, Taylor is, a mountain biker and involved in other outdoor sports.  At least, that's what I gather from what he says.  And he lives in Moab, after all.

In his article, he said the bicycle was "the original sports tech."  What he means is that, as far as we know, cycling was the first sport or leisuretime activity based on a product that required a certain amount of industrial capacity to produce.

As he explains, you don't need shoes to run and, "a branch falls from a tree, you find a pebble on the ground, and now you can play some form of cricket, or hockey, or baseball or golf.  Yes, you can make a better golf club and ball, but you can play regardless."  

He has a point:  Some of the most accomplished players in the "ball sports" learned how to play with nothing that resembles proper equipment.  They might've just rolled up whatever they could find to make a "ball" and, if sticks or clubs were necessary, twigs, branches or 2x4s from the junkyard stood in.  Naturally, some such athletes played barefoot until they signed their first professional contracts.

It also goes almost without saying that they played in the absence of any formal leagues, or any other kinds of structure or rules. For that matter, they sometimes didn't play on anything resembling a playing field or court.

I am talking about no less than Pele and Sammy Sosa.  Also, any number of hockey players used rocks or other things for "pucks" and anything that could be used to swat served as their hockey sticks.  I even read about one world-class player--I can't recall which, at the moment--who didn't even have skates until he joined a semi-professional league:  He and his friends would simply glide around on the ice on their most slippery shoes.

Now, we have often heard of champion cyclists who came from humble backgrounds, whether the family farm or a gritty indstrial town.  One could say that, for such reasons, a cyclist can't come from the same dire poverty as a football player from the favela because it takes more money to buy even the cheapest bicycle than it does to fashion a ball or stick.  Even if a budding young racer has to borrow a bike from a relative, friend or neighbor, simply having that kind of access signals less deprivation than not having a playing ball.

All of this might explain why no Grand Tour (or other major race) winner has come from an undeveloped country, while marathons and other running races are routinely won by competitors from places like Ethiopia and Jamaica.  This explanation makes sense, at least to me, when you realize that many European and American cyclists are also runners (and I'm not talking only about triathloners).  As Tom Taylor says, you can learn how to be a runner without shoes.  But it's pretty hard to learn how to ride a bike if, well, you don't have a bike.

Happy Father's Day!

Some parents talk about their failures in raising their children.  Of course, "failure" can be defined in any number of ways:  Perhaps the child didn't follow the career path the parents wanted.  Or he or she married the "wrong" person or didn't get married at all--or didn't have kids.  Or end up with the lifestyle the parents envisioned.

I have to say, I am guilty on all counts. My career and lifestyle are nothing like what my parents--especially my father--wanted from and for me.  And, yes, I married the "wrong" person--and never married again after that.  But none of that is either of my parents' fault--really.

I will, however, admit there is one area in which I've failed miserably in the making of my parents.  You see, I tried to turn both of them into cyclists--even to the point of giving them bicycles as gifts for some occasion or another.  I don't think my mother ever rode hers (If I recall, it was sold when my parents moved from New Jersey to Florida.) and my father may have ridden a couple of times with me.  Though his bike survived the move, it, too was eventually sold.

So...I can't say that my father (or mother) and I bonded over bike riding.  For that matter, if I recall correctly, I didn't learn how to ride from either of them:  I got those lessons from my grandfather (who died before I turned eight) and an uncle.  

I failed, but I think my parents have forgiven me by now.  A lot has been forgiven, or simply written off as vodka under the bridge, as Alexandr Revva might say. 

(Why did I choose him?  I confess:  He's one of the few Russians whose name I can spell!)

Anyway, in the spirit of father-child relationships, I offer this, from one of my favorite comic-strip series:

Happy Father's Day!

Happy Father's Day!

Happy Father's Day.  I extend this wish, not only to those of you who are male parents, but to any of you who have taught a child--or any young person--important life lessons and skills.

Since you're reading this blog, you probably agree that the most important skill--or, at least, one of the most important skills is riding a bicycle.  So for those of you who stayed with some kid until she or he learned how to pedal while balancing on two wheels, I offer this, from World of Wander on Etsy New Zealand:

Most of you would probably agree that one of the most important lessons is the knowledge of right from wrong.  Many of you, I'm sure, learned that at least in part from your fathers:

Finally, some of you would argue that the most important thing that your fathers imparted to you--and perhaps the thing you share most as adults--is beer.  (Such is not the case for my father:  He--thankfully--has never been much of a drinker.)  If your father loves bikes and beers, you might want to give him this:

Of course, I would be remiss if I didn't end this post without mentioning the film that shows, more than any other that I am aware of, just how a bicycle can bring a father and child together.  


That film, of course, is the monumental Ladri di Biciclette:



I hope that it doesn't take the theft of your, or anyone else's, bike to bring you and your father (or, for that matter, mother) together!