After pacifying myself for months together, I finally decided to part with my first bicycle, which even my younger sister had outgrown. I was very attached to my cycle.
A day before, my father accompanied me to leave the cycle to its new home. Just as I lifted my cycle to put it into the car, my dad, like a dutiful father came to help me with it.
I lifted the seat and told him to push in the handle. Shockingly enough, I realised that in the desperate attempt to push in the handle, I was being pushed into the car along with it too. Escaping the good fall that I could have had, I told my dad to stop pushing the handle and that I would manage to put the cycle into the car alone.
He obediently stood aside like a student who had been scolded by his teacher, while I carried on. Once again he couldn’t see me struggle with the cycle all alone and came to lend a helping hand — this time, promising to take care not to push me into the car. I agreed, little aware that he was even more determined and this attempt would be more desperate than the earlier one. This time he pushed and pulled the cycle forcefully to land it into the car. In the bargain, I was left with scratched palms, bruised hands and greased clothes; the poor car was scratched and bruised too; while the cycle was still outside the car!
By now I had decided — it was enough and immediately called out to my mom who was quietly watching all the action for almost half an hour. And she seemed to be enjoying the entertainment!
Mom to the rescue
As she came to help me, I felt as if she was literally coming to rescue me! Both of us put the cycle into the car in a split second and finally drove off…
Now that my aches have disappeared and bruises vanished, I can look back and laugh. But imagine how I must have felt at that time! The sorrow of parting with my cycle, literally translated into physical pain!