“That’s a small bike. I thought I had a small bike, but your bike is smaller than mine.” –a fourth-grade girl to my fourth-grade boy as I pulled my son’s diminutive wheels out of the trunk of our minivan W hen the mention appeared in the school newsletter about a free mountain biking class being offered by the City of Albuquerque to fourth- and fifth-graders, I ignored it. It wasn’t until Roy returned from school the next week, making personal entreaties to join the class ranks that I e-mailed the mother graciously organizing the two-day program. I’m already on the record regarding my ambivalence about my children and bikes. They make me nervous, probably the same way Bonnie and Clyde affected bank tellers in…