Mom's little helligan

"Learning to ride a bike that was at least a year too big was a rite of passage to freedom, and from gravity. I made good use of that freedom. We raced. We jumped. We skidded and crashed. We put smiles on our faces and shoes, lacerated clothes and skin, and sometimes ended up in plaster. "I remember rocketing to the edge of the drop-off. I woke up with a cast from my left upper arm to my thumb. Dad was very relieved that my injuries weren't more serious and felt sure I'd be more cautious next time. Mom read both of us the riot act. She was correct to predict that there wouldn't be a next time, although her wrath had little to do with it."