I don’t know what special talent I might have. I’m good with babies, but I think that’s just because they can sense I’m calm.

I learned to ride a bike when I was about six years old. Two days after my dad taught my sister how to ride, I stole [1] my sister’s bike, which was much too large for me, and taught myself to ride it, through trial and error, in about an hour. And I didn’t wear no stinking helmet and gloves, either!

And then… I went into the house, stole [2] a wrench, and removed the training wheels from my own bike, by myself. I left them on the front lawn and went whizzing down the street.

Nothing motivates a kid more than an older sibling.

Footnotes:

1. My sister had expressly forbidden me to take her bike, but she was at a friend’s house down the street, playing inside. I nicked the bike right off the friend’s front lawn.

2. I asked Mom for a wrench, and she said I couldn’t have it. Then she shouldn’t have left it in a drawer where a six-year-old could get at it while her back was turned, should she?