Dad taught me by holding onto the end of the banana bike seat and running with me until I got good enough, then he'd let go without telling me. I'd do great until I realized....Dad.....WAS......ON.....THE........OTHER.......SIDE.......OF.....THE.....PARKING.....LOT!!!!!!

Then I'd crash.
You know, I only have fond memories of learning to ride. I was 4. Maybe it was because I figured if I could ride my own bike dad would stop putting me up on his shoulders when he went for bike rides.

"Susan, you're covering my eyes (death grip)! Susan, hold my forhead, not my eyes (super death grip)!!! I CAN'T SEE (moving hands up while still maintaining death grip)!!! "
Terrifying but fun.