The big secret of many adults who have long since completed their army service and university studies, married and done some traveling is that they do not know how to ride a bicycle. Many think they will never find the courage to climb on, find their balance, ignore the fear and embarrassment and learn to ride. Iris Biber, 41, from Tel Aviv, learned to ride only a few months ago.

"My kids ride, my family and friends ride," Biber explained. "I felt I was missing something. I didn't do anything about it, but my sister just took me out to learn. When I got on the bike I felt mostly embarrassed and a little scared. But because I'd already started, I decided I wasn't giving up. Today I can ride." She does not ride regularly at present, "but the fact that I know how and that I overcame the fear and embarrassment is worth a lot," she says.

Dafna Shoval of Herzliya also reached adulthood without ever riding a bicycle. "I do a lot of spinning and sports and also listen to my friends talking about their bike trips. I decided that in honor of my 50th birthday, I'd learn to ride. I didn't tell anyone. Each time I had a lesson, I said I was going to do errands." Shoval, too, does not ride on a daily basis, but "I can get on a bike and ride. I haven't done it yet, but I promise it's coming."

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There are only a few places where hesitant adults can learn to ride. One teacher is Yossi Kat. "The problem with those who didn't learn to ride as kids is that the self-confidence and fearlessness of kids disappears with age," he says. "The result is that an adult is afraid, embarrassed, sometimes lacks coordination and physical fitness and is certain that the only thing that awaits him when he gets on a bike is a painful fall."

Lazy parents

Kat, 46, from Ramat Hasharon, teaches adults, children with handicaps and children "whose parents are lazy or can't manage to teach them." He is not a professional cyclist: his sport is sailing. "Since I was a kid, I've always been in the sea, sailing everything." Kat worked in high tech, but when he began teaching his son to ride a bike he had an original idea: He put on inline skates and held the handlebar and the seat so they could roll together.

"It gave him so much confidence to have me holding the bike and moving with him that he didn't even notice when I let go," Kat recalls. "He learned to ride so quickly that his friends' parents asked me to teach their kids too. Then the parents of a child with disabilities who knew me asked me to teach their child so he could feel like everyone else. When I was successful with him, too, I realized this is what I want to do."

Kat left his job three years ago to concentrate on teaching cycling. Chagi Pagirsky, the owner of a Ramat Hasharon country club who is also president of the Israeli Triathlon Association, gave Kat use of a paved and illuminated - but somewhat concealed - lot in which to teach both the embarrassed adults and the handicapped children. Riding instruction, for which he charges NIS 150 per hour, has become Kat's sole occupation.

Post-wedding confession

"The satisfaction I have when an adult learns to overcome the fear and embarrassment and ride alone is much greater than any corporate office job," Kat says. "Every adult I teach tells me they'll be my toughest case and that there's no way they'll succeed. I usually bet them a cherry popsicle that within five lessons at most they'll be riding confidently on their own. So far, I've won the popsicle every time."

Sometimes a secondary bet results in another popsicle for Kat: "when a student tells me he's the only one of his friends who doesn't know how to ride, I tell him there are lots of adults who never learned to ride, and that if he says something about the lessons at some family gathering or other social event he will discover at least two more people who don't know how. Usually, we bet on another popsicle. Most of the time I win it, when the student happily tells me he's found a few others to commiserate with."

Kat tells of a couple that came for lessons together. "After their wedding, the husband admitted to his wife that he couldn't ride. He didn't tell her before the wedding. Much to his delight, she said she didn't know either, and they signed up immediately."

Is it ever too late to learn?

"No. I had a 70-year-old student who weighed 160 kilos. Now he weighs a lot less and rides for fun on park trails or the boardwalk. He enjoys his leisure time so much more this way."

Biber and Shoval both learned to ride from Kat. "It was scary, but with Yossi beside me the whole time on the roller blades showing me how he was holding me tight and not letting me fall, the fear disappeared," Shoval related.

High demand on campus

Yonatan Rosenblatt, 27, a doctoral student in mathematics at Tel Aviv University, was surprised to learn that many of his friend were unable to ride and wanted to learn. Rosenblatt is a devoted rider and organizes cycling events in his spare time. Last year, as he was arranging a cycling trip for a group of students, one of his friends said she could not come because she did not ride. "A friend and I decided to organize a free riding class on campus," he said. The response was so great that Rosenblatt enlisted three more instructors. "For a year, we gave classes every week to about 15 students," he says.

This year, Rosenblatt and a partner in the hobby moved the activity to the cycling advocacy group Israel Bishvil Ofanayim, where they are working to organize cycling classes in various cities with municipal support.

Ofer Ezri, a computer professional, learned to teach cycling at the Wingate Institute. For the past two years he has been teaching adults to cycle. He gives private lessons (for NIS 150 an hour) as well as teaching part-time for Botz Bicycle Adventures (BBA). "I still work with computers to earn a living; the cycling instruction I do for the soul," he says.

In the first lesson, Ezri removes the bike's pedals. The student sits on the bike and pushes it forward with his feet. "That way they get a feel for the machine, a sense of balance and of forward movement. Afterward I reattach the pedals and they sit on the bike and try to pedal."

And you run alongside them and hold the handlebar?

"Not everyone likes that, so I try to go with what instills confidence in them. There are different methods, the main thing is to have forward movement and for the student to see that it's not as scary as he thinks."

When do they realize it's not so scary?

"Usually three one-hour lessons are enough for them to get on the bike by themselves and go for a ride in the city, so it's a pretty fast process."

BBA hold classes in several parts of the country. Lessons are also available at the cycling park in Kibbutz Tzuba, Tzubike, and with Ez Harim.

Embarrassing

Someone who probably will never learn to ride is D.A., 37, from Herzliya. "As a kid, I wasn't interested in cycling and I didn't ask to ride," she says. "My father really wasn't into it so the years passed without me ever getting on a bicycle. And I also didn't miss it. A year ago, I bought my two kids bicycles and my husband wanted to teach me how to cycle, but even then I had no such desire. When he and the kids go riding, I sit on a bench and I like it that way very much. I don't think I'll ever find a good enough reason to learn to ride."

So why did you want only your initials mentioned and not your full name?

"Because everyone thinks that not knowing how to ride is some kind of serious shortcoming and embarrassment, so I'm sparing myself the reactions."