Not the kind you breathe, but the kind beneath your tires.
So learning to ride a bike’s scary enough in its own right, but soon after the training wheels come off, staying upright’s not thrill enough. No, it’s time to catch air.
For me – there were enough construction sites in the neighborhood I learned to ride a bike in that the other kids and I could head down the block and scrape together a mound of dirt. Sometimes, we’d try to get fancy and scrounge up boards or layer rocks into the ramps, but the end result was always the same – take a sprint up to the ramp, hit the ramp, hold on tight, push off the top, and
Yeah, only for a split second, but it’s still catching air. And it’s addictive.
I don’t bother much any more with building ramps (at least not yet – the boys should start asking soon – wonder what the wife will let me get away with), but it’s still there – rocks on the singletrack, the bunny hop over curbs and potholes on the road bike, and just launching off of curbs in general. The thrill is still there – the transformation of speed from the rider’s power to flight, the brief moment of soaring, and the eventual reunion with Earth.
Gets me every time.