My son got his first dirt bike for Christmas. For the last year I had been telling him he had to wait until he was eight years old. Because I felt that at age eight he would be responsible enough to ride it. His Dad has a dirt bike and often goes riding on Saturdays. When he’d head out the door my son would look enviously after him and say, “If I had a dirt bike then I could go riding too.”
My husband, with my sons help wore me down. My husband showed me how many three and four year olds are riding dirt bikes, which I personally think is crazy. He also reminded me that if Tyler started now by the time he was twelve he would be riding as good as my husband. Riding dirt bikes is a sport they could do together, which would strengthen their relationship. My husband promised to take it slow, so I gave in and we bought the bike a year and a half earlier than I had said.
Christmas morning we took my son out into the garage. He was overjoyed. He climbed on the bike wearing an enormous grin.
We established some ground rules that Tyler promised to obey. He isn’t allowed to ride the dirt bike without his Dad there. No one else can ride the dirt bike. He always has to wear his helmet, chest protector, knee, and elbow pads.
My husband began by teaching him the different parts of the bike. Then he practiced using the brake, starting the bike, and using the throttle. When he got those things down they took it in the dirt field behind our house. My husband got on the back of the bike and rode with him. After a few times my husband let Tyler take the bike by himself while he ran along side. Right there to help if needed. After the ride Tyler came running into the kitchen, “I did it all by myself Mom!” he shouted. I was proud and at the same time terrified. But I can’t baby him forever.
It’s hard to let go. Have any of you had similar experiences?