Just Let Go
You can't hold on forever, dads. But in case you want to try, there's a handle.
My dad got me and my sister each a trike so we'd know he would always be there, helping us along, with a guiding hand.
But now my sister and I are in our mid-twenties, and we're a professional motorcycle racing team. Dad, we've got to say... it's time to stop trying to hold on to the back of our bikes.
Sure, when we were young (age 1 to 5 years) it was cute! We'd fill up the rear bucket with our toys, get comfy, and start up, and you'd help guide us so we couldn't get too far away. You were there for us, Dad, and we love you for it.
But today, we're going around a track at a few hundred mph, surrounded by other racers doing the same thing. And the idea that you're going to wire a handle onto the back of our bikes and just wear roller skates... well, even if it were physically possible, it probably wouldn't be allowed by the judges.
Not that we don't love you, Dad. But eventually, you've gotta let go.