Jodi Crawford Potgeter, MI

Junior Writer

Jodi likes to pretend she has other hobbies like cooking and camping and crafting, but mostly those things are messy, and that annoys her. Truthfully, she’d rather spend her time reading a book outside. Her history in the child welfare field has given her a love for working with people of all backgrounds in a myriad of life circumstances. She started writing a diary when she was seven and has been writing ever since. She is currently a web content writer who thrives on creating the perfect composition that clients love.

As a Story Terrace writer, Jodi interviews customers and turns their life stories into books. Get to know her better by reading her autobiographical anecdote below.

Learning to Ride a Bike

My childhood home will forever be idyllic in my mind. The backyard was spacious and flat, ending in a small hill that led up to a line of boulders edging a large wooded area. Splitting the trees was a set of old, unused train tracks.

Beyond the trees, past a field of tall grass, was a river, low and flat and slow. Our black Labrador would often escape the house to run straight for the river. Once we’d find her, we’d throw rocks into the river for her to fetch. No matter what size rock we’d throw, she’d unfailingly come out with a rock so big we were afraid she’d break her teeth.

There were the obvious never-ending adventures of childhood: mud-pie-making and pirate games and hide-and-seek; but one of my favorite things was my bike: pink with the words “fancy dancer” winding their way through white butterflies. I taught myself to ride it by balancing on the white banana seat on top of the hill between two of the boulders. Determined and terrified, I’d pick up my feet and wobble-fly down the grassy hill and past the side of the house. When my front wheel was about to hit the sidewalk, I’d jerk the handlebars to the right and start pedaling with no abandon, mostly because I wasn’t sure how to stop.

Having suffered a few injuries from this method, I decided something had to change. I sat on a boulder until the idea came: a seatbelt. I pulled a shoelace out of my sneaker and tied one end to the back of my seat. I sat down on the bike and brought the shoelace around my waist and tied a tight knot behind me on the other side. Confident of my new safety feature, I took a deep breath and sailed down the hill, past the house, jerked right at the sidewalk, hit a bump, and crashed.

This is when I realized that my seatbelt was, in fact, a terrible idea. Not only had I fallen, but I was now trapped and actually tied to my bike. When I failed to get the knot out, I did the only thing a child can do in this type of situation. I cried loudly for help and accepted the life lesson that not all ideas are good ones.

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