In the Nick of Time
When my son bought his bike, the bike store personnel spent some time explaining how to use it safely. They showed him how to take the wheels off and put them back on. They advised him to always wear a helmet and to use front and rear lights at night. They told him to use his rear brakes as his primary brakes and only to use his front brakes when he needed extra stopping power, because using the front ones alone could cause him to flip over the bike head first.
That was in July.
Last week I saw him trying out those front brakes. He would ride a little ways and stop cautiously. Then again with a faster stop. Sometimes the rear tires would lift a few inches off the ground. He still wasn’t going fast. He was only trying this in our driveway. I let him test himself.
This morning while I was hanging a load of wash I heard a small clatter and turned to see him on the ground tangled in his bike. When I asked if he was OK he assured me he was. Then he told me he had flipped over the bike head first.
I went to check him over. He’d put his hands out and even they were not bleeding from the fall. No scrapes on knees or ankles. Just fine.
Later he asked me if I’d seen him flip. He wanted to know how fast he was going through the air. He said that it seemed like he was going very slowly, that he had time to think about what was happening and that it would be good to get his hands out in front of him before he landed.
Scientifically a minute is 60 seconds and every second can be measured exactly the same. So what happens when time seems to stand still? When we get a few moments to think clearly before an emergency? Time was still racing for me at that moment because I was behind schedule and had too much to do. It’s interesting to ponder.
That was in July.
Last week I saw him trying out those front brakes. He would ride a little ways and stop cautiously. Then again with a faster stop. Sometimes the rear tires would lift a few inches off the ground. He still wasn’t going fast. He was only trying this in our driveway. I let him test himself.
This morning while I was hanging a load of wash I heard a small clatter and turned to see him on the ground tangled in his bike. When I asked if he was OK he assured me he was. Then he told me he had flipped over the bike head first.
I went to check him over. He’d put his hands out and even they were not bleeding from the fall. No scrapes on knees or ankles. Just fine.
Later he asked me if I’d seen him flip. He wanted to know how fast he was going through the air. He said that it seemed like he was going very slowly, that he had time to think about what was happening and that it would be good to get his hands out in front of him before he landed.
Scientifically a minute is 60 seconds and every second can be measured exactly the same. So what happens when time seems to stand still? When we get a few moments to think clearly before an emergency? Time was still racing for me at that moment because I was behind schedule and had too much to do. It’s interesting to ponder.
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