Thank you, Dad

ENGL 101

Thank you, Daddy

Learning a new thing is an unforgettable experience, and to me, there is no exception. Two- day experience with my dad was one of the most of memorable because of the feeling that I learnt riding a motorcycle and overcame my fear of riding. Before that time when I thought of riding a motorcycle, I began to sweat, and my heart rate increased. I realized that riding was not easy for me.
It is more scary when riding in Vietnam. Riding a motorcycle in Vietnam is extremely dangerous. The traffic is chaotic, and there are poor road conditions with uneven pavement. People can accidentally bump into a hole on the road. Some holes are so big that people call them “the elephant hole”. There are no speed limit or yield signs anywhere along the way. Because of the lack of signage, it is easy to have an accident. Furthermore, some motorcycle riders even ride on the pavement due to traffic jam. Thus, the riders have to prepare to brake frequently because other riders suddenly stop, or the pedestrians cross the road anytime. The important thing is not to be panic which I am bad at.
I remembered the first time I tried to mount and ride my friend’s motorcycle. I was so anxious that I crashed into a lamp pole. I became pale and terrified. My friend was frozen. Since the first experience became a terrible nightmare, I never dared ride a motorcycle by myself again. However, I like the feeling of the wind in my hair, the symphony of nature beckoning my senses and the freedom. It is like flying or riding a cloud from heaven. Sometimes when I see my friend riding a motorcycle, I really envied of them. I imagine that I’m riding, feeling the wind rushing into my face or objects along the road passing behind me. I was tempted to feeling that again. Consequently, no matter how horrific it was, I decided to learn riding. I thought to myself, “It is now or never. You can do it. You can’t always ask dad to ride you forever. You can be a great rider. Nothing is to be fear”, so I made a decision.
First of all, since I cannot learn it alone, I need an adult to teach me how to ride. For the reason that my dad is the only person in my family can ride, I ask him to teach me. Moreover, he is a good rider. He is 52 years old now, bald, brown eyes and skinny. He is a good father and really cares for his family. He is like our family’s “chauffeur” for nearly 30 years. He rides safely and obeys the rules. I remember that when I was a child, my dad often rode my family of five on one small motorcycle to everywhere such as the zoo, my grandmother’s house. When we look back at that moment, we never stop laughing at it and wondering how all of family can fit in one motorcycle. We have never had any accident though it is still against the rule. We did our best to avoid the police. Those moments are unforgettable, but that is another story. From my experience, I believe in his riding skill. When learning to ride, I’d better have someone who can make me feel comfortable and calm, someone who won’t scream at me. My dad is the best and only choice.
Therefore, after the dinner, I said to my dad confidently “Dad, I want to ride a motorcycle. Can you teach me?”.
And he looked at me and pushed his glasses, “Of course, I am waiting for you to ask me that question”. We smiled at each other.
After that, together my dad and I picked the time and day that would be the good day to start learning. We all agreed that I would learn it in the early tomorrow morning because there were less people on the street, and it had to be sure that I didn’t hurt anyone. That would be bad that I didn’t have a license, yet I did cause an accident. Riding was a serious thing, and I needed to be careful even if we just learn. After hearing that, I was more nervous than before but couldn’t wait to get on the motorcycle. Even though I was excited and anxious, I still slept well that night.
Finally, the day had come… I was going to ride. The next morning, as my dad woke me up at five A.M, I groggily rolled out of the bed, my eyes still half closed, and I put on the clothes. It was a little dark, and the sun partially rose. There were a few of people doing exercise, drinking coffee along the pavement, the sound of machines operating in the neighbors’ houses or the tick tock of the clock on the wall. It had to be one of the most beautiful mornings I had ever seen.
While I was yawning, my dad was taking the motorcycle outside. He went over the basic rules about starting a motorcycle and the things that need to be done first. He showed me the places of the brake, the accelerator and how to adjust the mirrors, how to keep my balance. Even though I already knew that, I pretended to listen carefully. The difference between driving a car and riding a motorcycle is the balance. When driving a car, you don’t need that, but to motorcycle, balance is essential. Thanks God that I didn’t have to worry about that problem because I knew how to do it properly thanks to riding a bike. Moreover, my motorcycle didn’t have a foot- pedal, so it was much easier for me to pay attention just in both of my hands. Riding on my own motorcycle would be fantastic, unless my dad was sitting on the back.
Everything was set. In a flash I put the key in and started the engine....and wroooooooommmmm!!. That freaked me out. At that moment, the bad memory came back. My hands sweated; simultaneously, my mind went blank. I felt my tears in my eyes. I even felt my dad shivering behind me. Instead of pulling the brake, I speeded up by twisting the accelerator. We was close to crash the light pole, I quickly turned my handlebar. Luckily, I avoided it and didn’t damage the motorcycle. However, I heard the mild sound “bang” which was like something was being hit and “ouch”. I pulled the brake instantly and turned back. All I see was that my dad was rubbing his leg. I never felt more terrified than I did in the brief moment. I thought he might be angry; nevertheless, my dad didn’t scream at me.
He just frowned due to the pain and said to me, “Slow down. Don’t be panic. I am behind you”.
I nodded and composed myself by taking a deep breath; gradually, I controlled my handlebar. Hearing a few words of comfort made me feel better. Thinking of my dad was behind helped me calm. All of my fear disappeared. After a while, balancing and riding straight ahead were not my concern anymore. The hardest, craziest part was curving on the narrow alley. I could hardly do it. I often stopped and let my feet on the road so that I could balance and curve. It truly frustrated me. I had to concentrate one hundred percent on curving and practicing it more than five times till I completely did it. The sun rose, and more people were walking on the street. We both knew that that was all for today.
The first day of learning, I made one person injured. I hit my dad’s foot into the light pole. He had an ugly bruise. I felt sorry for him. I was out of energy, and my body ached. I didn’t know if I could learn the next day. The fear of riding a motorcycle still remained, but I believed that my dad would console and comfort me. It tranquilized my emotion. I was deeply sleeping, and my mom called me for breakfast. The day passed, and I still thought about my father’s injury. I was afraid that the accident would repeat in the next day. I went downstairs to suggest my dad we should skip one day until his wound could be better, and I had more time to relax myself. He was putting an ice pack on his bruise and told me, “It is OK. My foot is not such a bad injury. There will be effective if you learn riding every day. If you skip just one day, you may forget what you learn today. Thus, we still follow the schedule and keep learning. I ensure after tomorrow you can ride without me anymore. Now, go to sleep. You need energy for tomorrow. Good night.” He put the ice pack away, took off his glasses, laid down and closed his eyes. I didn’t have time to speak a word. My dad is an easy- going person, but I couldn’t convince him that time. I was standing, staring at the dark room and hearing him snoring. The house was in silence, and it was time for me to sleep, too. The second day had come. My feeling was better than yesterday, but I still worried. I prayed that nothing would happen. I was a beautiful day. I stepped out of my bed, did my regular morning routine as usual. Downstairs, I saw my dad drinking coffee and waiting for me. When I took the motorcycle outside, I heard the birds chirping and the dog next to my house barking. After I had gotten done looking all around me, I started my motorcycle. It started just fine and sounded like lion roaring in the morning. Since it was my second time, and my dad sat behind me, I was not afraid anymore. We didn’t need much time like yesterday. Everything was perfect. I could take a test and ride like everyone else. The fear, the bad memory disappeared which was substituted by the good feeling that I imagined for a long time. It was time for us to stop practicing. However, unexpected thing happened when I ride my motorcycle into my house. Because of my house’s high terrace, I couldn’t push the car by my strength. My dad was the person who usually rode the motorcycle up into the house. This time, he said me to give it a try. People were staring at me made me nervous and embarrassed, so I rode half of the way and lose my balance. I fell and broke the right mirror. Fortunately, my dad stood next to me, and caught me in time. I didn’t hurt seriously. We was relieved, “Thanks God”. Even though unexpected situations occurred, it is a moment I cherish for the rest of my life. I had my license and rode by myself. It took a period of time for me to ride up the terrace into my house without falling. Maybe I don’t have to ride a motorcycle anymore, but I won’t forget the time when my father and I experienced together. Every time I recall these things, I feel hilarious and happy even though I hurt my dad. Sorry, daddy and thanks.