I was about five years old when I decided that I didn’t want training wheels on my bike anymore. I was the big sister; it was time for me to woman up. When I told my dad about my intentions, he grabbed his trusty screwdriver and headed outside with me. After the offending wheels had been removed came the hard part: I had to figure out how to convince the bike to stay upright with me on it. We started off on the grass, so that any (inevitable) falls would be less painful. But we quickly found out that my five-year-old legs weren’t yet capable of an off-road adventure. So, with a bit of trepidation and a whole lot of determination, we relocated our operation to asphalt.