Take Two

Mr. Clinton, was the friendly, greasy hands, jack-of-all trades, bike mechanic, who ran our local sporting equipment store. My parents bought a tricycle from him for my birthday.

This wasn’t just a little trike—it was a super large one.

Taking it out on the street in front of our home brought hoots of laughter from the neighborhood kids—who’d never seen a trike that big.

Humiliated, I quickly escaped back into the garage. I made excuses about why I didn’t want to go riding.

When my father finally got the story out of me, and the intense shame I felt, the trike was loaded up in the car. He and I went to see Mr. Clinton.

I stood by solemnly as Mr. Clinton helped my dad unload the trike. He wasn’t even mad like I expected. He patted my head.

“Take Two,” Mr. Clinton said to my father. “Let’s try again.”

He showed us a selection of smaller bicycles. I chose a blue one and Mr. Clinton attached training wheels.

Then, kneeling down to my level, Mr. Clinton smiled and told me, “Learning to ride a bike takes some time, but you’ll never forget how once you do.”

Mr. Clinton was right about that, and about the need to “Take Two” and try again.

Being able to Take Two, isn’t always easy in our rapid-paced, impatient world, but it is still the only way to keep going when things don’t work out the first time.

Offering a second chance is a gift that can help someone keeping trying. I’ve needed lots of them.