A month ago he was on training wheels. This weekend, he was speeding down a hill at the West Hartford Reservoir, sans that support system. And then he crashed.
My daughter would never drive fast on her bike. She has zero interest in racing, being a daredevil or looking for a steep hill or sharp curve. Boys are different.
I warned Julian there was a hill ahead, and to go very slowly and apply the brakes. Instead he said “no daddy, I want to go fast without brakes.” It happened in seconds before I catch him. He wiped out scraping his knee, arm, even his nose. Thankfully he had a helmet on and didn’t hit a tree.
He screamed and yelled “I want Mommy.” Kara and our daughter were a thousand miles way wrapping up a girl’s trip to Michigan. Dad would have to do.
A passerby named Linda came over to help. She talked to my son in a calming tone that was quintessential maternal. Linda told Julian her three sons had all crashed at the reservoir and all grew up to be young men unafraid of bike riding. She was great, and just what we needed at that moment.
We were a mile from a never used but well stocked first aid kit tucked away in the Buick Roadmaster. After a little coaxing and hugs from Daddy, Julian got back up on the bike and we headed toward help.
I cleaned him up and got my son home, with a lesson under his belt that his father learned decades ago. He was lucky, I have a few scars from some boyhood mishaps.
Thank you, Linda. I’m sorry I didn’t get your last name.
Those training wheel days certainly were an easier time. Check out this story of another crash Julian and I were in: https://dennishouse.tv/2013/04/12/my-close-call-in-traffi/