by Abbey
My dad is at the bottom of the huge hill standing by his blue mountain bike while I am standing at the top deciding if I should ride or walk my bike down. I see him standing there, smiling, and waiting for me to ride down the hill. I try to convince myself that my father made it down the hill over the roots and bumps in various places. I know my dad is waiting for me so we can continue on our ride. I unfortunately am still standing here evaluating if I should ride down the hill. I watch him take a good, long drink. I decide to slowly let my bike roll down the hill. Then, suddenly I pull my feet up on the pedals and zoom down the rough hill on my bike. "Good job!" He says happily to me, still smiling at me. We start heading down the wide, sandy trail. Dad is riding right beside me as we swerve around trees and do wheelies over roots. We laugh and have an awesome time as we continue down the trail. I am so thrilled and proud that I was able to tackle the hill on my bike.
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Way to go, Abbey! I know that feeling so well, standing at the top of the hill, trying to decide if I should ride down it... I love the way you describe it. And I'm so proud that you rode it!
ReplyDeleteAbbey wrote this story for an assignment earlier this year in her 5th grade class. It's reproduced here exactly as originally written.
ReplyDeleteThe events described in the story occurred last fall while we were bicycling at Burchfield Park. The hill she describes is quite steep, narrow, and a little curvy, with a loose surface. Its descent is best described as a controlled fall for perhaps 30 feet; control being required to swerve around a large tree near the bottom. It is a potential erosion scar that perhaps will need to be made off-limits to foot and bicycle traffic, but for now it provides quite a rush.
From my perspective, at the bottom of the hill, it was a rather unnerving to see Abbey try it. I feared it could end painfully for her. I, too, was proud of her for doing it.