So what happens after I write my story about the “Skuut” wooden bike you ask? Well, my wife promptly orders one on Amazon, and that goes against every ounce of Brooklyn logic in my over-sized head. “What did you do that for?” “It’s like a thug walking a Poodle after he brags about his Pit Bull”. “What if the one or two people who still read my blog see me with Hennessey riding that thing?” “As “Mr. T” used to say on the “A-Team”, “I pity the fool”.
And guess who was the one to open the box and put it together?, yes, you got it right. Just muttering under my breath about Park Slope and the lack of steel bikes the kids ride over there during the entire five minute assembly process.
“Are you almost finished? Hennessey is really getting excited about riding her new bike” said my wife.
“Almost done, just one more allen nut to tighten” As I torqued down the last gold nut, my daughter was already standing my my side, anxiously waiting for me to finish the “assembled in Brooklyn” part of this whole “egg on my face” day I was having.
“Now Hennessey, this bike has no petals, Daddy says “no petals”. Without paying attention to anything I had to say, she grabbed the bike from me and sat on the wooden seat which was covered with a bright red seat cover they threw in the box.
And to my amazement my daughter just started riding it around the apartment. She would gently push herself around while trying to lift both of her feet at the same time. Within a few minutes she was already trying to balance herself on the thing. “You see Ronnie, I told you it actually helps children learn how to balance themselves at an early age” said my wife. “It’s probably going to be very easy for her to ride a two wheeler after she’s outgrown this”. “Want to go outside, want to go outside” said my little curly haired daughter.
So there we were on the sidewalks of East 4th in Kensington, Brooklyn. My daughter just gliding up and down the block having the time of her life on her wooden “Skuut”, and me feeling as proud as ever watching her, and knowing that once again I was very wrong about what I actually didn’t really know.
But, hey that’s OK, I can take it. Have been wrong thousands of times in my sweet Brooklyn life. And I’m sure this isn’t the last time either. And you know what, this one is really special. Just a little story about a "Skuut" on another Spring day in Kensington Brooklyn, and actually feeling real good about being "wrong" once again.