Beyond anything else, my favorite sensation is that of the wind in my hair and whistling over my ears while riding down the side of a steep hill in the woods jumping logs and falling off small cliffs. Having learned to ride a bicycle around four or five, I took up mountain biking at the age of seven. Since then, the sport has been something of a journey for me. When I first began mountain biking, I rode a cheap, suspension-less Walmart bike that explicitly stated it was not designed for bmx riding or mountain biking on its label. This proves a sharp contrast to my dedicated, if still relatively “cheap”, mountain bike I own today. My father introduced me to mountain biking as a form of father-son “bonding” hobby that we could both enjoy. Over time, we both grew to love the sport more and became increasingly invested. As a child and as a young adolescent, my father and I would often go biking on various trails of varying difficulties. In this, we have even gone so far as to travel to North Carolina and ride trails there. Unfortunately upon entering high school, the frequency of our weekend excursions waned as I had to devote my time to other things. And so, in this period my bike grew dusty from disuse and the tires slowly lost their pressure. However, as the saying goes, “You never forget how to ride a bike.” As such, I returned to my favorite hobby in my last year of high school with renewed fervor. Some weeks, I would hit the trails every day. In this, I feel I have regained my original passion for the sport. Though my bicycle and I have our share of scars and scratches, they are something we will always bear with pride.