In September 24, 2003, it was a scorching hot autumn day just as the afternoon began. I, a kindergartener, was just like any other four year old whippersnapper. Everything seemed to me was either boring or a nuisance. There was nothing out of the ordinary until Dad brought up a pleasing idea. “I think you should use your remaining free time to start practicing your skills to sharpen your balance on the bike,” suggested Dad while staring at a bicycle advertisement on our humongous Samsung plasma flat-screen TV.
“Alright then. I’ll try to develop my skills of riding a bike,” I muttered. My dad and I decided that since I didn’t have any plans on my mind, I could learn how to ride a bike for the very first time.
“Let’s commence by mastering your bike skills with the training wheels on the sidewalk. Put on your helmet and pads first,” Dad demanded. Meanwhile my dad was helping me put on my bike gear, I stared at the crimson red monster equipped with poorly conditioned brakes and a set of training wheels, and I imagined that the bike would hunt me down like I was the prey and the bike was the predator.
“Keep your balance Anthony. You can learn how to ride a bike if you keep your balance!” Dad shouted thoughtfully helping me balance my colossal sized bike.
“I’m trying my best! I exclaimed. Meanwhile I was cycling on the hot and blistering sidewalk, I smelled the aroma of the yellow dandelions which smelled like my mom’s Chanel perfume. Every glimpse that I saw from house to house on my neighbors’ spacious, vast lawns were nothing more than oak and pine trees, the golden and crisp autumn leaves on the cracked sidewalks, and sharp, pointy, and spiky pine needles lazily lying on the patches of dry, yellowish green grass. Remembering the wee, rickety training wheels rattling like a rattlesnake through my ears gave me the “chills” while I pedaled through Lacy Hill Drive, a long trail to a path of vivid varieties of colorful leaves in the fall. “Dad, since I’m getting the gist of balancing my bicycle, you might as well deposit these eerie and gruesome sounded training wheels back into our jumbo, sabotaged warehouse,” I confessed with determination toward Dad.
The Term Paper on Training and Supervision Skills in the Hospitality Industry – Spuntino Catering
The Encarta World English Dictionary defines catering as, “to provide what is wanted or needed in a particular situation or by a particular group of people; to provide food and drink for a social or business function” (Encarta Dictionary, letter C.) Catering an event is something that is very important, not only within the job, but throughout the process of training. In fact, without proper ...
“Just as you know son, getting your hopes to where you have full optimism on your bike riding skills,” Dad protested.
After Dad removed the preposterous training wheels, abruptly, I grew with exhilaration. Finally, I began to cycle down road without Dad. “Wait! Hold on!” Dad yelled with ferocious anger.
“I’ll be back after five minutes.” I replied. Racing down the street without a pair of training wheels was nothing more than a handful of blissfulness. Because of gaining full confidence, I repetitively looked behind my bike and thinking that nothing of misfortune would happen. Right after I looked back to the front, an elderly pedestrian was in sight. Seven feet away from the old-timer, I vociferated with anxiety, “Please watch out. Get out of the way!” Apparently, the old geezer didn’t hear anything that I said. Right after I turned a hard left where heaps of humongous piles of dried leaves lay, my vermillion scarlet Schwinn bike left a dusty path of dead, dehydrated, golden, and maroon leaves flying toward the old man’s face. “I’m remorsefully sorry. My deepest apologies sir,” I explained with sorrowfulness. As I continued to bike downhill on the burning sidewalk, a woman with her infant in a tiny sky blue stroller emerged from the curb of my street ten feet away. My hand reached for the rusty, rough hand brakes, but time was my enemy. I was now only five feet away from the tall, blonde lady with the stroller. My muscles began to tense and compress. Suddenly, I panicked and screamed, “Bloody murder! Aahhhhh!” The next thing I knew was that I felt a ferocious and vigorous impact on my head against the tree.
The Essay on Bike Bed Santa Started
... faces of my mum and dad and there was no presents. Wheres my bike! WHERES... MY... BIKE! Calm down son. Youve only ... a temper like a lion with a thorn in its foot. I had written my letter to Santa and had ... lay down on the ground and started worshipping my bike and screaming were not worthy, were not worthy. I ... I couldnt believe that Santa hadnt brought me my bike. I was going to be the laugh of my ...
Dad finally caught up with me and cried out, “Son, you should’ve waited for me!
“Yeah, I know Dad,” I sighed.
“Go home and clean yourself Anthony!” Dad demanded with resentment. “You’re grounded for a week because of almost injuring three people today.”
As my Dad was apologizing to the mother and elderly, I walk home having a gloomy facial expression without my trashed red bike. Well at least on the bright side, I learned not to ever be over-confident again.
