APR 24, 2009 – 12:00AM

A couple of weeks ago, the Hartsock clan was driving down Iowa Street when we encountered a cyclist stopped at a cross street, waiting for the signal to change.

From the back seat, my 8-year-old son, Brooks — a perceptive, observant type, but a little loud –bellowed, “WOW! HOW DOES HE DO THAT! THAT’S AWESOME! THAT’S SO COOL!”

I adopted my world-wise dad voice — the one that sends the kids diving under pillows or scrambling to put their iPod headphones back in — and explained the cyclist was track-standing.

To track-stand, a cyclist turns the front wheel to a 30- to 45-degree angle, then using the slope of the road, pressure on the pedals and sometimes back pressure from the brakes, balances while standing on the pedals. Done right, it really can be AWESOME and SO COOL.

Hearing my son’s admiration, I vowed then and there to learn the dark art of the track stand.

Unfortunately, my balance is poor and my bike-handling even worse, so it might take awhile. And since I’ve been working to learn to track-stand for, oh, a dozen or so years already … well, it doesn’t look good for this lifetime.

It wasn’t always that way.

Back when I was just a little older than Brooks is now, I rode BMX bikes. I loved jumping over things, jumping off things, popping wheelies, riding no-handed. I perfected the jump-off-the-bike-skid-to-a-stop-as-the-bike-careens-across-the-lawn dismount and was particularly adroit at bunnyhopping onto curbs. (I hate to date myself, but this was in the olden days, before curb cuts).

Eventually, the play went out of riding a bike, then the riding a bike went out of riding a bike, and I drove everywhere.

These days, there aren’t a lot of tricks in my arsenal.

I still do a pretty good running dismount, and can ride OK no-handed.

I do a pretty good skid stop on my fixie — you lock up your legs and put your, um, belt buckle on the stem, thus helping to unweight the rear wheel and prolong the skid. Trouble is, it just chews up the rubber.

I’m also pretty good at the fixed-gear pop-off. Since the pedals turn whenever the rear wheel turns on a fixie, it’s possible to clip out of your pedals, then straighten your leg as the pedal starts to come up from the bottom of the rotation. That pushes the rider off the back of the bike and firmly onto the ground, allowing him to catch the back of the seat and — voila — instant dismount.

A couple of weeks ago, I executed a perfect pop-off. Or it was perfect, until I realized, mid-air, that my jacket was a little longer than I realized. It caught the nose of my saddle just as I popped off the back. The bike surged forward, then rocketed back, right into my, erm, well, the parts that sit on the saddle. Yowee. I’m so glad my wife and I are happy with the two kids we already have.

And to prove just what a quick learner I am, I did it again just a few nights later.

Now, about that track stand …

I reckon before long I’ll have to get out in the garage — door closed, of course, so the neighbors don’t get to see me falling off my bike, time and again — and practice the infernal thing.

I’ll get it down. Eventually.

Of course, by that time Brooks will be driving and, no doubt, cursing the stupid cyclists trying to balance at stop lights.