Motorcycle Madness

Vrroooom!

It turns out every block should have a motorcyle repair shop.  We have one just a few doors away, and you’d think it would be loud and crazy, right?  But, no, the tall, intimidating owner is always around, keeping his customers quiet and the neighborhood safe.  Equally counter-intuitive is that the owner is better than anyone on block upkeep.  In summer he plants flowers around his store (and for anyone else who asks), in fall he cleans up the whole block with his leaf blower, in winter he’ll clear the snow.

As a mom, though, I have to say that no amount of planting flowers, cleaning leaves, and clearing snow could possibly change what really matters:  Much as I like having the shop nearby, our girls are not riding motorcycles.  (Honestly, they’ve heard me rant so much about the dangers they don’t even ask to try.)  When they head toward Ohio this weekend, it’ll be in a car.

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6 thoughts on “Motorcycle Madness

  1. LOL. If my mother only knew how many times I rode on the back of a bike before I was an adult. Not that she liked it when I was an adult….

    Positive thoughts for a safe trip for your girls. 🙂

  2. David Griesing

    My 22 year old daughter just recounted how happy she was that I never forbade her to do anything–and that if I had, she would have been likely to have “jumped on it” (whatever “it” was) at the earliest opportunity. That said, she was always a kid with great judgment. But with all kids, don’t you pour into them all the wisdom they can accommodate and hope that when you’re not around they’ll do the right thing?

    1. Thanks, David — I hear you! You know those awful child leashes? Our older daughter gave my husband a card with a picture of a child with one around her neck — our daughter had written, “Thank you for never putting me on a leash.” So, yeah, we’ve raised our kids with mutual respect. Safety is tough, though. Honestly, motorcycles haven’t been a problem, but other things are (hitchhiking, anyone?). All I can do is explain why I’m terrified, say “I love you, please don’t do it,” and pray . . .

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