I learnt to ride a bicycle when I was seven years old. My father had bought a bicycle for my seventh birthday and my father coached me to ride. After the falls and bruises, I finally mastered the skill of riding the bicycle in a few weeks. Since then, I loved to cycle around the neighbourhood in the evenings.
At first, my parents did not allow me to ride on the roads but as I grew older and more mature, my parents relented and allowed me on the roads and even gave in to my cycling to school two kilometres away.
At school, my enthusiasm for cycling rubbed on to my close friends. Many of them pestered their parents to buy bicycles for them and soon, one by one, all my friends owned bicycles. They would come to school on their bicycles and after school; they would go for a three-kilometre ride.
One day, I was in town where there was an exhibition of bicycle stunts. Champion riders and stunt performers showed a variety of skills on the bicycle. They could do 'wheelies', jump over ropes on their bicycles and `fly' through the air with the aid of a sloping platform. I witnessed this exhibition in awe and was duly impressed by the performance.
When I reached home, I could not contain myself and wanted to try out some of the tricks I witnessed. I mounted my bicycle and rode to a vacant plot of land where I could practice. I tried to do the 'wheelie' and after some time, I found that I could do it. I thought that he had mastered the skill and happily made his way home.
Just a short distance away from my house, I decided to do the 'wheelie' on the road. As I pulled the handlebars to lift up the front of my bicycle, I lost his balance and fell sideways, colliding with a motorcycle traveling on the lane beside him. The motorcycle also lost control and both I and the motorcyclist ended up sprawled on the road. The motorcyclist was not seriously hurt but I was bleeding from my head and the skin on my arms and legs were scraped.
Luckily, the motorcyclist...