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When I was about 3 or 4 years old, my parents bought me some funky green bicycle. They slapped me on it and tried to learn me. But on that day, I was unlearnable. That very night, I dreamed of how to ride a bike. In my dream I could feel the bike and how it was going to react. I got up at the crack of dawn and woke my mother up and told her, "I had a dream about riding that bike, and now I know how." I still remember the dream, and I remember waking her and telling her that.

I'm betting I badgered her to take me outside to ride that bike. She either got up and took me out there right away, or did after a short time. But I remember her putting me on that green bike, giving me one push and I rode away, and have been 2 wheel obsessed since then.

Up until she died last August, she would still tell that story to people on occasion about how I woke her up and told her, that I had a dream and now I know how to ride. And I did too.
 
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