The morning is cloudy, but I don’t mind because the sun will appear later. It is chilly but not cold. I love saying that. I think of it as the difference between winter and spring.

The kid down the street rides a four-wheeler. He went from a tricycle to a bike with training wheels. I have no idea how extra wheels train a kid to balance on a two-wheeler. It is one of the mysteries of life. I didn’t have training wheels when I was a kid. I had my mother. She held on to the back of the bike as it wobbled, and I pedaled for all I was worth hoping to stay upright and moving. I remember my mother rode my bike first to show me how easy it is to ride. I was amazed. My mother could cook and clean but I never really thought too much beyond those. That she could ride a bike was a revelation. We were on the side street in front of my house. I was afraid she’d let go, but she didn’t for the longest time. When she finally did, I just kept on moving. I was a bike rider.

Okay, next I’m talking feminine undergarments. If you want to leave now, please do. Just hop on down to the next paragraph. Remember you were warned. I never had training wheels on my bike, but I had a training bra, the purpose of which flummoxes me even now. What was I training them to do? No tricks ever came to mind. Later, when I was much older and out of training, I did think of tassels but that’s a whole different conversation and profession. How long we had to train was arbitrary. Each mother made that decision. I didn’t train for too long. I must have been a quick learner.

My first job was at a Woolworth’s, the summer after high school, and I had to be trained. It was ridiculous. I was shown how to work the cash register and had to prove I could make change. The right way to stock shelves was explained and demonstrated. I was glad for that because I probably would have put the articles upside down or backwards on the shelves except for that in-depth training. I really hated that job, but I lasted the whole summer.

I had to student teach my senior year in college. Nobody called it training though that’s exactly what it was. There I was standing at the front of the room facing an entire class of kids who knew I was inexperienced and suspected I was scared. They were right. My lead teacher watched for a few weeks, gave me pointers and then she let go just as my mother had. I had no trouble staying upright, but I still needed to pedal for all I was worth.