Lived with my grandparents when i was little, they got me a bike when i was about 6, but it was meant for me when i got a little older. They propped it up alongside the back doorsteps and let me look at it, but told me it was too big for me to learn to ride yet. When they went inside, i climbed on, pushed off the steps, and pedalled once. For some reason, it took like a second for me to realise that as long as i kept pedalling, i could keep balance. So i kept pedalling.
I got to the end of the driveway and realised how easy it was to turn if you only moved the handlebars a little, so i looped around on the front lawn. I looked up and saw my horrified grandmother looking out from one of the windows. She ran outside, called for my grandfather and stood there on the front steps, looking stunned. Grandfather followed and just stood there with a big grin on his face.
After turning on the front lawn a few times, I thought i had pushed my luck enough for one day, so i biked up to a soft spot on the lawn, slowed down and gently toppled off when the bike fell.
The bike was oversized enough that when a pedal was all the way down, i couldn't reach it with my foot, so i had to push one pedal until the other one came up enough for my other foot. I was riding like that for about a year before i could actually reach properly. I also couldn't stop unless i found a fence to lean against, a set of steps or a deep gutter to mitigate the height, or a soft spot to fall off onto.
It became normal for me to bike home from school (yes, they let me ride to and from school alone on a bike i couldn't ride normally!) and just casually crash into a grassy mound in our back yard before running inside to watch cartoons.
Reminded me i borrowed ny friends spare bike just to find out the brake is busted i have to manually slow down by looping and when it slow enough i slowly brake with my sandals
