I was about six years old when I learned how to ride a bike. All of my friends had already learned how to, and I felt left out. One day, I told my dad that I wanted to learn, and he responded by showing me the bike he had learned how to use as a kid. At first I was nervous, but then I realized, that if the other kids could do it, I could do it too. I decided to give it a try. The bike looked brand new, not one scratch on it. First, I made sure I wore all the protective equipment I could. I hopped on the shiny bike, and got ready to go. My dad kept on telling me, “believe in yourself, try, try again”. I noticed the leaves blowing in the wind. It was a crisp autumn day. My hands were cold, but they held a firm grip on the handlebars. I knew the time had come. I kicked on the pedals. Vroom! Vroom! Vroom! I was starting to pick up speed. My street is up on a hill, making it a very fast ride going down. I had all the confidence in the world at that moment. My black and red helmet had me riding in style. I had never done something so exciting in my life. I rounded my street a couple of times. I did not fall once. When I got back to my house, my dad was standing there. “So, how did it go”? A big smile came to my face. “Great”! He patted me on the back. “Now that you did this, I think you can do anything”! He was proud of me because I never gave up, even if I fell or could not ride my bike well. It was getting late. I was pretty tired at that point. The sky was turning dark, and a full moon was in the horizon. My dad suggested we head inside, and celebrate my accomplishment. I walked inside my house. My parents and brother and sister were there. They cheered for me. We had a big party, with ice cream and even party hats. I still remember that day like it was yesterday. It was one of the happiest days of my life. One thing is for sure, I will never forget it.