When I met the leader of a cycling group, he advised me, like many girls in northern Iran, to enjoy the gift of cycling.

Fearing the critical and harsh views of the people and not wanting to be finger-pointing, I started making excuses:

"I do not have a bicycle!" "I have not ridden a bicycle since I was a child!" "I do not have the money to buy a bicycle!" "perhaps later!" "Not just yet!"

But he was already familiar with all these excuses and said: “no problem. I know someone who can temporarily lend you his bike until you buy a bike for yourself! And if you think you don’t remember how to ride a bike… I’m sure it’ll come to you as soon as you start again…

He closed my mouth with this sentence and gave me the address and phone number of his friend. He was a retired teacher who wanted to lend me his bicycle, and he was currently borrowing the bicycle of a neighbor boy he did not need.

I got the address and went to their house. Going up and down the streets, I finally found the place. It was a relatively old two-story house with short fences. The first thing I saw was a beautiful lady with gorgeous hair. She smiled and greeted me.

A 50 years old man came downstairs to greet me. I went to their yard. After some small talks, he took the bike out of the yard and gave it to me. As soon as I saw the bike, a wave of strange emotions rushed at me. Excitement, fear, longing, joy, and passion that filled my whole being at once. I grabbed the handlebars.

The kind friend said: Do you know how to ride?

We came to a narrow alley together and I slowly moved the bike forward with trembling legs. I lifted one leg and placed the bike between my body. I sat on the saddle and drove involuntarily. I moved forward, thinking what  the leader of the group said was actually right ... I remembered everything ... I completely remembered how to do it. 

You have probably heard them say: Just like riding a bike…

To be continued…