The Great Training Wheel Conspiracy

One year when I was 4 years old, my parents got me a brand-new bicycle for Christmas. I loved that bike. No longer was I limited to riding my tricycle in the driveway. Now I could race up and down the sidewalk. From the bright-red paint and tassels on the handlebars to the training wheels, I thought it was the greatest bike in the world. Now I was a big boy!

I discovered I could zip all the way around the block and back before my parents realized how far I’d gone. I could even keep up with my big brother! I loved my new bike and rode it every chance I got.

One day I left my bike at home and was two houses away at my friend’s. We were standing in his driveway talking about playing ball when my brother came riding up quickly on a bike. I immediately noticed that he was on my bike. And to my horror, my training wheels had been sneakily removed by him! He was grinning from ear to ear!

“What are you doing with my bike?” I questioned. Before he could answer, I added, “And why did you take my training wheels off?” I knew this was some dastardly plot to take my bike from me. My mind was racing about why he would do this to me. Then I said loudly and firmly, “Go put my training wheels back on!”

My brother just sat there smiling at me. Shaking his head, he said, “Nope. Today you will learn how to ride your bike without training wheels.”

I began to scream at him, “Put my training wheels back on right now!” Big brothers can be really annoying sometimes. My brother just began to laugh at me. My friend stood back to watch how this would unfold. I took off running, crying big tears and yelling, “Moooooooooooommmmmmm! Gary took my training wheels off my bike and won’t put them back on!”

The Conspiracy

It didn’t take me long to figure out that my mom and brother had planned this together. They were apparently prepared to force me into a crash, scrape up my knees, and—as far as I could tell—possibly cause my untimely death. No amount of pleading changed my mom’s mind. She calmly explained that today was the day I would learn to ride my bike.

I was crying as my mom led me out on the front porch. There stood my brother beside my beautiful red bike—with no training wheels—surrounded by what looked like 20 neighborhood kids. I was convinced they had gathered to watch this poor 4-year-old meet a tragic end.

My mind went into a bit of a cloud, and I remember standing there with my arms crossed, shaking my head back and forth. I vaguely remember my brother trying to explain the physics of balance and motion and that I wasn’t really using my training wheels anyway. He said, “Keep peddling, eyes on the road, and steer straight. You got this.” He tried to explain that I already knew how to do this.

Nothing doing. I wasn’t even going to try. Too many witnesses. I didn’t mind blood, unless it was mine! I wasn’t doing anything of the sort; I simply wanted and demanded my training wheels to be put back on.

After about 15 minutes of arguing and cajoling, my mom said, “OK, how about if you at least try? I’ll give you $5.”

I said, “Let’s go ride the bike!”

I agreed, but only if my mom and brother would hang on to the bike and push me so I could get a feel for it. They pushed me up the street while I leaned heavily in one direction, then the other, all the while keeping my eyes on them to make sure they were holding on. I couldn’t ride a bike by myself.

When we got to the end of the block, my mom said, “OK, you ride it back now.” It took all the energy I could muster to get them to push me back again. When we got back to my eager neighborhood friends, I said, “One more time.”

My mom let out a sigh. I’m sure she was imagining, Was this ever going to happen?

As we took off for this third leg of the journey, I saw my mom wink at my brother, and I didn’t trust them at all. I looked back, and they were 20 yards behind me, waving, smiling. I quickly turned back around to see where I was going, thinking, I’m riding my bike! I didn’t believe it, so I turned around again to make sure that my mom and brother were not there. Sure enough, they were now a half block from me. I quickly turned around again before I ran off the sidewalk. I was riding my bike! I felt so wonderful, so free. I still couldn’t believe it. So I had to turn around and double-check that they were not there, and . . .

Crash! When I turned around this last time, I ran right into a telephone pole! And then my mom, my brother, and the whole group of friends at the other end of the street got what they came to see. I stood up screaming!

I was convinced they had gathered to watch this poor 4-year-old meet a tragic end.

They all came running, and when they got closer, they could see I wasn’t hurt, but I was jumping up and down screaming, “I can ride! I can ride! I can ride without training wheels!” Everyone laughed, clapped me on the back, and stepped aside, because I was ready to ride again! This was fun!

This experience reminds me of Jesus’ words in John 14:6: “I am the way [or we could say the path], the truth, and the life.” All we have to do is keep our eyes on the way (Jesus) by reading the Bible, keep peddling by praying to Him every day, and steer straight by staying away from temptation (1 Cor. 10:13). Then God’s promise in Isaiah 58:14 will become real in our lives: “Then you will find your joy in the Lord, and I will cause you to ride in triumph on the heights of the land” (NIV). One day, with the wind in our hair and joy in our hearts, we will live with Jesus forever. And we won’t need training wheels.