Training Wheels

Back before we were cruising in our banana-seated, high-crossbar handlebars, on regular two-wheeled bicycles, even before you clamped playing cards to your spokes with laundry pins to make it sound like a motorcycle (at least that was the lofty aim). Even before you had a small replica of an adult bike, one that wasn’t found in the toy section, but sporting goods.

The day you first went up to your Dad and asked him to remove the training wheels from your bike.

Has ANY Dad ever just said OK to that question?

Not bloody likely.

But when your Dad finally relents and lets you try and ride your bike sans trainers, you had damn well better not crash. With Mom in the background raising holy thunder, even if you make it around the block, make sure you don’t wipe out on a sidewalk or in the street. You will never explain the scrapes and scratches to Mom or Dad.

But taking off the training wheels has grown to be a euphemism for letting something: an idea, a person, or say, a company, move in their own chosen direction.

If you are a parent, think of raising your own children, and then inevitably watching them leave to fulfill their own destinies.

Bittersweet.

I can only imagine having an idea, and watching it grow into something really huge.

Think Bill Gates and Paul Allen.

Walt Disney.

I think we all have that dream on one level or another. More fantasy than dream in my case.

So you know where I am going with this if you have followed a few of my posts.

When will we be taking the training wheels off our own country?

We are 245 years old. At what point will we be operating as our best selves, both collectively, and individually? When will all the bugs be worked out?

At what point do we, as a civilization have to come to before we admit, we haven’t done enough.

My God, children are engaging police officers with automatic rifles and shotguns!

In Florida.

USA.

WTF?

Now, before anyone mistakes me for someone who gives a shit about well, anything, let me say this about that.

I have said it before, and I will say it again, children act like they have been taught. I’m not putting the onus totally on the parents because of how today’s kids are bombarded with images on their phones and computers.

You can be Republican or Democrat, but if you didn’t like seeing how the police handled the situation, you are a dipshit.

My buddy isn’t buying it.

He mockingly chortled, “they were only so nice and didn’t use deadly force because of the whole George Floyd thing.”

“Really,” I said. “I have only four words to say, “thank you George Floyd.”

I truly believe this will not be the last occasion we, as a society will have, to thank Mr. Floyd in the same way we should thank Candy Lightner, the founder of MADD.

Here is the second part of my story The Freak:

Stay well.