I was about 7 or 8 when my parents got me my first bike. My Mom decided that she should be the one to teach me how to ride because she didn't like my Dads plan for teaching me. Her method was to push the bike in circles around the inside of the garage with the promise that when I was ready she would push the bike in circles on the driveway and someday, eventually, on the sidewalk in front of the house. So I spent many months with my Mom's lessons when she finally took the training wheels off, because they had actually broken. She promptly put a new pair of training wheels on the bike and continued the drill of pushing me around the garage and driveway. The second set of training wheels broke and my Mom was planing to go out and get more. My Dad offered to take the broken wheels off and asked if I wanted to help him. We went out into the garage, my Dad took the wheels off and asked me to sit on the bike to make sure the size was still okay. I sat on the bike and my Dad told me to hold on tight and to not stop pedaling because that would cause the bike to fall over. He then pushed the bike down the driveway where I rode out into the street. He then went back inside and sat down on the couch to watch TV. Because my entire bike riding lessons up to that point had been my Mom pushing the bike I didn't actually know to properly stop riding and get off the bike so I just kept pedaling. I spent about an hour riding my bike in circles around the cul de sac before my Mom figured out what had happened and yelled at my Dad. They both came out and I remember my Dad saying "See, he's doing just fine." My Mom asked if I was ready to come inside and I yelled out "Yes, but I don't know how to stop!"
That was how I learned to ride a bike.
