When I was ten I did a brave thing. I traded my fancy birthday bicycle with its chrome fenders, balloon tires, and uncool foot brakes to my cousin for her no-frills yard-sale bike with its streamlined fenders, skinny tires, and very cool hand brakes. We were both deliriously happy with our trade. "No backsies, touch blacksies," we said to each other. The only person who was not happy was my mother, who was convinced that I had done something really stupid. But I hadn t. I had followed my heart, which for me, a shy, submissive child, was quite an accomplishment.