Pushover: not to my credit

Pushover

She got the bike for her tenth birthday.

Like her, it was a beauty.

Shiny chrome, metallic blue, ribbons from the handlebars.

She could see herself flying with the wind.
So could they.

They could see her flying under a truck or over a car.

They loved her and didn't want to lose her.

They pretended that they never would, of course. So they told her with loud voices and in no uncertain terms,
"You are only allowed to ride in the driveway and in your own yard."

She begged and pleaded for the reason. Why?
(She had learned at around 5 that Why worked much better than saying NO to them. "No" was cute at first, but they carried her off to bed and made her eat anyway. "Why" was usually good for at least 10 to 20 minutes of tactical delay.)

Because, they said, you already know, that:
You -don't obey.
You -don't look or listen.
You -don't think for yourself.

They thought they were making statements. But she heard them as commands. Loud voices always have the rank of generals.

So she obeyed them, as she wanted to be good.

She obeyed them by not obeying, by not paying attention, and by not thinking for herself. And, naturally, the first thing she did the next morning was to attempt to ride the bike outside of her yard.

Right at the very tiptoe end of the driveway she was.

About to make the Great Escape. To be free, as free as the wind. When...


Bam. They knocked her off the bike.


They hurt her to prevent her from being hurt. "This is for your own good" battered what hadn't already been beaten.

Perhaps this did save her, in some way. How was she to know?

She just knew the pain and the desire to be free. She was a very determined and strong willed girl. So the next morning, she crept right to the edge, hopped on, and just about made it, when..


BAM! They knocked her down again. With more: "you don't listens," and "you don't obeys." So she didn't. And the next morning. BAM!

And the next. BAM!
And the next, and next and next and so on.

She knew they would knock her off. She was determined, though. She had to find a way to win.

After the quadrillionth time, she got right to the tiptoe edge of the yard, hopped on the bike, and... immediately threw herself on to the ground.

BAM! She beat them to it. At least she would fall the way she wanted. It was the only control she ever had, so she took it.

She was no longer a pushover.


Later on in her life, just when she was about to achieve some form of success and
independence, she always found some way to throw herself off.

People wondered why she was so crazy, but it made perfect sense to me.

Later on, when we saw what it was all about, she bought herself a brand new bike.





Man, that girl can ride...