Maximum Wood

back when steel was real

Early last summer I replaced the tires on G's wooden Skuut bike. He had worn them to the threads, in about 18 months, which without a coaster brake to power slide bald spots into the tire, I thought would be impossible. Turned out it was from running them at low pressure so he could get more traction at Thunderdome. The spec'd tires weren't really meant for a 3 year old to take off-sidewalk riding. What he needed was more supple tread, a 12" tubular like FMB's  to grip the haphazard turning, like Velcro, for his slaloming around redwood trees.

The only realistic solution was a knobby tire, the same one every bike shop in town carries in black or white. G dug the tread, and what (now) 4 year old doesn't need boosted confidence in their choice of traction? Surprised that he went through tires at all, I figured that would be all the required work to his whip before a pedal bike made its' way into his life. After all, how much maintenance does a plywood bike with no gearing need?

As it happens, 3 months of ever growing air over jumps at The Lumber Yard reaps havoc on the press fit sealed cartridge bearings in the wheels -the only moving part of his bike. He rolls up to me like a F1 racer and says, "Dad, my bike steers funny and makes noise!" Before ghost riding it out from under himself, aimed straight at me, wobbling like a wooden missile ready to leave slivers of shrapnel in my shins. If I hadn't known any better, I would have thought he expected me to simply pull out a spare bike as if he was running through the pit in a cyclocross race!

Sure enough, the bearings in the rear wheel are simply gone! I explained the problem and that the solution was to step it up to a pedal bike. "After all," I reasoned to his tears, "you'll get more air when you can pedal on the jump line." 

It worked. A few days later, while his Skuut was with Grandpa getting new bearings installed, Mom, G and I  went to the shop where I used to work (15-years ago!) to get the boy-wonder the bike we carefully picked out based on his favorite colors.

I had no intention of re-introducing the Skuut until after pedaling had commenced. Knowing full well that he had no idea how to pedal, I reasoned that his drive to keep up with 14-year olds would be motivation enough.

Stoked, we immediately go to the 'Yard and he races to his regular jump line before I can even get us checked in. I chase him down and find him straddling his bike on the edge of the drop-in, lip quivering, fighting back tears in his eyes and a shaky voice, "Dad, I can't make the pedals go!"

Realizing his inability, he's totally unwilling to learn among his peers and heroes. This is homework that needs to be done before our next visit. He concedes to riding one of the rental scooter bikes on which he teaches himself how to Bronco after watching older kids do wheelies over the humps in the pump track.

Days pass and now we're a full week since his bearing blowout. I take him to the 'Yard on a snow flurry afternoon and he's adamant that he not bring his new pedal bike until he is fully skilled at pedaling it. I concede, recognizing his sense of pride. As we walk in, he has a full melt down and sits in my lap crying, mumbling and wanting me to snuggle him, tucked into my jacket. Finally after about 20-minutes he simply says he misses his Skuut bike. What killed me was that he said it like a kid being homesick at Granma's house. I felt like an idiot. He's known that bike for half his life. He's bled on that bike, tried to drop me on that bike at dusk when he didn't want to call it a night and go home and to bed. He's challenged, and beaten all of his gravity fears on that bike. That bike, now covered in BMX brand stickers and Teen Age Mutant Ninja Turtle stickers IS his independence.

A few days later, my dad brings his Skuut bike back and helps me mount his pedal bike to my rollers. G spent the entire next day alternating between riding his skuut bike around the kitchen and disappearing into the garage to wind up his legs on his new pedal bike.

 Best pedal stroke this side of 3rd grade

There is no 'Pain' in a Pre K Cave

 All was well this weekend as he had his wooden Skuut bike back to rock the big air at the Lumber Yard and his "trainer bike" to warm up on before breakfast. What could be more perfect?