Amy Lu's View

I can’t ride a bike. 

There, I’ve announced my deep dark secret to the world. Not the world’s most salacious confession, but it is embarrassing. Also, not really a secret, but definitely something I don’t advertise. 

I don’t know why I can’t ride a bike. My brother said that as a kid I could (and that there were even pictures) but I don’t remember this, so I must have been pretty young, or my memory is just really bad. I don’t think anything dramatic happened to halt my bike-riding–my theory is that I just grew ever more awkward and cautious about physical activities as I got older, so I stopped. Plus, I didn’t have compelling motivation to ride–we lived in the country so there were no friends’ houses or convenience stores to bike to. 

I do know that by 1982, when I was twelve, I didn’t ride a bike and didn’t feel like I could. I’m definitive about that because that was the year the movie E.T. came out, and I left the theater feeling anxious and guilty and like a big failure because I couldn’t ride a bike. 

I loved the movie–it was exciting and funny and heartwarming. But I was tortured by all the biking in it. What would I do, I agonized, if I was faced with needing to save E.T.? Clearly, I would fail and E.T. would be captured by government agents, because I couldn’t put E.T. in my basket and pedal him to safety. 

I’m thinking about this today because it’s World UFO Day. Yeah, that’s how my mind works. 

My distress over not being able to save E.T. did inspire me to learn/re-learn how to ride a bike–at least that summer, at least for about half a mile. I commandeered my sister’s old bike and worked at it until I could manage a short ride. 

I think I needed to prove to myself that I was a mildly competent preteen, and that I could be useful in a crisis/adventure if one were to arise. Even though I couldn’t ride a bike very comfortably or very far, I hoped I had the foundation for heroism. 

Once I met that minimum standard of proving to my young self I could ride a bike, I stopped. I never picked up bike riding again except for a brief fling with it during the early days of Chamy. I definitely like the idea of biking, but I’ve never felt comfortable or safe or confident on one (at least not that I remember). When my bike got stolen 25ish years ago when we first moved into our house, I wasn’t that upset. 

I haven’t tried to ride one since. 

I know biking is supposed to be easy–I think most injury-free adults without significant health concerns can ride one, or at least used to be able to. Kermit the Frog can ride one. But it’s just one of the many sporty activities that I can’t do–swimming, skating, skiing (I’m not counting things that I literally can do but just do badly–like bowling). There’s a reason that running is my “sport”–it’s just fast walking and doesn’t require extra coordination.

I try not to limit myself too much with outdated self-labels, like “I’m not coordinated” or “I’m not good at math” or “I’m a snarky non-sentimental Gen-Xer,” but change does take effort. At present, I’m comfortable with being a non-biker and prefer to spend my energy on other pursuits. 

Maybe someday I’ll make a change–I’ve certainly surprised myself before. But for now, on this World U.F.O day, I can take some comfort in knowing that if I did need to save E.T., I could probably drive him somewhere, or at least get him an Uber.