Fantastic work by Jon Van Natta’s daughter Erin in this story about the Bike Park Blowout and her psycho father.
Mountain Bike Miracle
By Erin Van Natta
Ms. Pritchard’s Class
“Get up! Get up!” My annoying younger sister stood in my room, disobeying my “Keep Out” sign.
“Dad’s going to take us mountain biking.” I shut my eyes and covered my head with my puppy soft blanket, trying to block out her voice. It was no use.
I soon decided to get up. What else could I do? I went upstairs and hopped on the couch, hoping no one would notice me. I failed. My dad told me, “Get ready Erin. We’re leaving in 10 minutes. I signed you and your sister up for a mountain biking kids’ camp!”
I groaned. I despise mountain biking. Unfortunately, my dad is a mountain biking psycho, so I have to deal with mountain biking.
After getting ready, I sluggishly crawled into the car with not the least bit of hope. 45 minutes later we arrived at the mountain bike obstacle course in Castle Rock. While my dad rummages through the trunk looking for some gear, I slouch in my seat and stare at the ceiling.
I sigh. Why can’t my dad play soccer, like me? I finally get out of the car and follow my dad on my purple bike.
We arrived at a small crowd of people listening to the director speak. “When I blow the horn, you may start. You earn a sticker at each station. 15 stickers equals medal.” The director informed us.
Medals? Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad after all…
“Honk!” The horn had blown. I rushed off to a station I call the “humps”. The “humps” are small mounds of dirt that are really fun to ride because it’s like you’re riding waves of soil ( Your bum gets sore from bouncing up and down so much). Not to brag, but I was fantastic!
Next I did my dad’s station where I met his friend, Steve. I repeatedly did the same obstacle over and over and soon decided to try something more challenging. I ride over logs and afterword, a lady in a flashing pink sweater came up to me and said, “You’re a professional!”
A few more obstacles later, I had earned my fifteenth sticker. I gasped. That meant I had earned my first medal! I bounded to the booth with the medals. The medal was silver with a black fabric that held it all together.
After earning my thirtieth sticker and second medal, it started to sprinkle. I met up with my dad and sister. “I got three medals!” My sister boasted. “Cool,” I said quite shocked I had even gotten one.
As we were driving home, I thought about my amazing experience. I had ended up sweaty, scraped, bruised, and bloody, but I didn’t care. Who would? All that mattered was that I had fun and learned a few things. Surprisingly, I did.