I'm fairly sure I had training wheels, but I wouldn't swear to it. What I'll never forget, however, is the thrill of my first unassisted ride. I flew like a bird down to the end of the block, turned and zipped back in the other direction -- until I hit a large sycamore tree and crashed down in a bloody heap. For the next 20 years, until I moved away, I never passed that tree without the memory coming back, as I'm sure it would if I ever returned to the old neighborhood.