I learnt to ride a bike and lived to tell the tale

Sometime around 1983, I learnt to ride a bike at my piano teacher's house. My sister, brother and I used to go to Mrs Soh's house for piano lessons, and at the end of our sessions, we would hang out at the front of her house with her kids who happened to have bikes. I learnt to balance on the bike by coasting down her driveway, and after a few weeks, I got the hang of riding it.

In case you were wondering, I'm sitting on a red seat, and yes, that is my real hair.

For me, part of the stimulus to ride a bike probably came from watching E.T.: The Extra-Terrestrial, The Goonies, The Karate Kid and Whiz Kids.  The personal freedom of escaping FBI agents, running down gangsters and jumping the moon just looked awesome, which coincidently I did none of. There were a bunch of other BMX movies that came out too like RAD (my wife recommends it) and BMX Bandits (starring Nicole Kidman!) that I vaguely recall but can't remember which probably helped with the boom of BMX bikes being sold everywhere. At the time most of my friends had a BMX (you know who you are, Mr Raleigh Chopper) and we proceeded to do stupid stunts with our new wheels.

Richie Adler and friends (from the Whiz Kids theme) tearing
after the stupid spaniel who peed on RALF.

Goonies, the coolest geeks on bikes.

With a bag like that, you know he's about to get his ass kicked.
Picture from Crackle.com

Now, you have to realise that this was way before anyone bothered to wear safety helmets. Some of the accidents that have been recounted back to me include cycling fast down a hill and slamming on the front brakes causing a handlebar flip, falling off the bike while trying to stand on top of the bike, and losing a front wheel while cycling. My brother tells me that I once collided with another cyclist, but I must've been concussed as I can't recall that incident at all.

"I'll never survive the landing!"

My other misadventure seems lame by comparison. I was cycling down a steep road and I started to veer round a corner. Unluckily for me, the road had a surface layer of loose asphalt which caused my bike to slip out from under me and sent me and my bike into a corner storm drain (longkang). It's kind of hard to explain what the storm drain is like in the suburbs of Petaling Jaya, but suffice to say, it was about a 2 meter drop into a concrete pit, head first. I'm still not quite sure what happened, but the bike was basically on top of me, with a dented rim and handlebar. Surprisingly, I walked away with a swollen jaw, and some scratches on my palms and legs. I'm not sure how I did it, but I managed to get the bike out of the drain and pushed it all the way home without anyone knowing about it. Despite that, I still learnt to ride my bike hands free without a helmet, because I'm stupid like that.

It was like falling into the Death Star trench.
Photo Source

Aside from the dangers of riding a bike, we used to have fun riding all over the place. My friends and I used to shoot down alleys, dodging broken glass bottles, dog crap, dead rats and rubbish. We'd go to the various local parks, where we had to cycle across a plank of wood just to get into the park (I'm not sure what the urban planner's reason for limiting public access by only providing a plank. Cost cutting?). We'd try to shoot out each other's tyres with a plastic bow & arrow set. We'd even cycle through snake infested grass patches and tried to avoid the packs of rabid dogs that would chase us if we ever dared to slow down. We'd once come across several boxes of packing foam discarded in front of a derelict factory. So we made a 'snow' pile and drove through it. Through it all, I had my 5 year old brother following behind us with his trainer wheels. It would take my sister another 26 years before she learnt to ride a bike.

BTW Bro, jandals don't help when you mangle your feet
in the bike chain. I know that from experience.

Nowadays, I'm less inclined to cycle. Unlike the suburbs of Petaling Jaya, Auckland tends to be a lot on the hilly side. Maybe in a couple of years when the kids are old enough to balance, we'll roll out the bikes, strap on our helmets, and burn baby burn.

Sun Tanning

Kids, when I was a wee little snapper, my skin used to be a deep bronze brown colour, unlike the palid vampire white I am today. Back in those days, staying out for hours in the sun used to be good for us, or so conventional wisdom taught us.

Yup, a bronze god in Speedos.

Whenever we went swimming at the pools, or were at the beach, we would lie on our towels and try to get tanned by using Coppertone Suntan lotion. "Sun TAN lotion?" you ask. Yes, there used to be a product which probably had a -10 SPF rating and accelerated the tanning process, rather than protecting you from UV radiation. It was like basting a leg of pork in the roasting dish so that you get nice crackling, which essentially happened to our backs after a weekend of sunbathing.

Beautiful tan today, a crispy, wrinkly old hag tomorrow.

The telltale signs appear as long strips of skin peel off, and you're left with a raw pinkish red patch all across your back. Sometimes, some asshole at school would walk past and give you a good slap on the back, causing a flinch of pain. In hindsight, that's a sign that you've done some serious damage to your skin, vastly increasing the risk of skin cancer.

Yummy instant bacon.
Source: Wikipedia

Nowadays, especially in New Zealand with that great big hole in the Ozone above us, I'm less inclined to go out into the hot summer sun between 10am-4pm even with sunscreen on. That pretty much explains why I walk around with a bucket hat, lavish my meals with tomato sauce (for the lycopene) and don't play cricket.

Purple Stains

Kids, you may not know this, but I was always accident prone. Grazes on knees & shins, splits on lips, chin and skull, burns on legs and hands, and one bad incident with a brass zipper. Usually I'd just get up, brush myself off and be on my merry way. Sometimes though, there's a gash with blood flying everywhere. That's when the hard stuff comes out. I'm talking about Iodine.

It was usually dispensed by the school nurse after a kid does a knee slide over the loose asphalt parking lot behind the school (yes, it happened to me). The nurse would then tell the me off, wipe the wound, and dab a generous purple stain on the knee. Then for the next week, I'd would walk around with the badge of awesomeness splattered all down the side of my leg.

Nowadays, we'd just wash the wound, quick acid bath with Dettol, a scream, a plaster, and we're away laughing.

I want the Wolverine one please. I need the mutant healing factor.