That is a mighty moment in one's life.
It's called "independence" - because the horizon then awaits.
I think our son was about six or seven when it was determined the "trainer" outrigger wheels should come off his little bicycle and it was time he stood on his own two knees - suitably skinned, of course.
So, I took him down to the local school which had a great expanse of bitumen across it.
I figured that, having taught myself to ride a motorcycle, I had honed my riding craft to a reasonably high level, over the years, and I would pass on some rudimentary skills to the lad ... in terms of balance, cornering and which bandages to use if there was ever to be an unforeseen "issue".
In my case, a caravan that I, and the bike I was on, tore in half back in the early '80s.
Mmmm, yes, speed had been involved and the policeman who came to see me in hospital just shook his head.
So, anyway, I said, "Son, riding a bike is as easy as falling off one ... No, wait a minute, that's not quite what I meant."
He just looked at me blankly.
"As easy as blowing off in the bath," I said.
Then he nodded and smiled.
"Ahh, dear boy, now you've got the picture. "
So off came the outriggers and on came one hand to the base of the little seat - the sole supportive device for this crucial lesson in life ... and transportation.
I jogged along beside him as he pedalled, keeping the bike upright as we went round and round and round.
For a brief second, I took my steadying hand off and he continued on, oblivious.
I did this with increasing regularity and started saying, "You're doing it all by yourself" - to which he grinned and, with tongue out in concentration, pedalled solo and upright ... longer and longer.
And then, as if a fuse had been lit, he cycled off and left me behind.
He whooped with delight ... as I screamed in fear and told him to watch where he was going.
He pedalled off the great bitumen quad and along the path which led to all the classrooms.
He was on a roll.
I was on absolute tenterhooks because I realised there and then that I had neglected to teach him one vital thing - braking.
And so it came to pass that he did a right-hand turn at the end of the pathway and clattered into a couple of rubbish tins.
"We got any plasters?" was all I could offer upon the return home.
"I crashed," the little bloke said.
"It was fun".
When I learned the craft, the bikes had just the one gear.
You started out slow and just built up speed.
Some of the flash chaps though had Sturmey-Archer three-speeders ... gosh ... the grand prix set had arrived.
Today, it's 10-speed or even 21-speed stuff and some have disc brakes, and frames which are astonishingly complex.
One of the race chaps told me the rear wheel on his bike cost about $4000.
Just for the wheel.
When he told me how much the whole bike cost, I said, "That's what we paid for our first house back in 1979."
"Must have been a nice house," he replied with a smile.
-Roger Moroney is an award-winning journalist for Hawke's Bay Today and observer of the slightly off-centre.
