Dad Learns to Skate

My son is eleven and got a skateboard for his birthday in August. He watched videos for a week and then announced that I needed to learn too, because "you need a hobby, Dad."

I'm forty-four. I have a desk job and a bad knee. But I bought a board.

We practiced in the empty church parking lot down the street every evening. He learned to ollie in three days. It took me three weeks just to push without wobbling. I fell more times than I can count. He would skate over, look down at me lying on the asphalt and say, "That was a good try," exactly the way I used to say it to him at T-ball.

Last week, I rode all the way down the gentle slope at the end of the lot without falling. He screamed so loud a woman walking her dog jumped. Then he gave me a fist bump and said, "You're officially a skater." I've never felt cooler in my life.