No Hands

Jack was a kid who loved riding bicycle. I still remember the story of how he boasted his riding skill to his mother when he first got the hang of riding a bike.

"Mom, I can ride!" Jack shouted to his mother, who was busy doing work in the garden, when he finally managed to ride his bike. His mother replied encouragingly, "Good boy!"

Five minutes later, "Mom, look. I can ride with one hand!" Jack waved happily to his mother as he rode past her. "Careful, son," his mother waved back.

Another five minutes gone, "Mom, look! No hand!" Jack waved frantically to his mother with both his hands. Jack's mother was starting to worry as she looked at him riding down the street.

Ten minutes passed, Jack's mother saw no sign of Jack. She's frowning.

Finally, Jack appeared from the end of the street riding towards her. To his mother's relief, this time, he had both hands on the bike's handles.

As Jack's approached his mother, he put on a big smile and shouted, "Mom, see. No teeth!"

~

Fifteen years on, did Jack learn his lesson?

Maybe not ...

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