Takin' a ride with Mom and Dad
When I was a kid, my dad bought his-and-hers Suzuki motorcycles for himself and my mom. They both had these white Bell full-faced helmets with matching red pinstripes. His bike was a 650cc model (a little more power), while hers was a 250 (I always considered it a "ladies' bike").
When my mom got sick, her motorcycle ended up sitting more and more, and began collecting dust in the garage. My dad moved on to other subsequent motorcycles (though he never did ride quite as much again), and his Suzuki was handed down to my brother. Awhile after my mom died, her motorcycle went out to Colorado with my sister. After a while of riding it, she moved it out to the backyard, where it now sits, collecting wasps. Every time I visit, I entertain thoughts of helping her get it overhauled, seat replaced, re-chromed, and back on the road. Thankfully the elements in CO haven't destroyed it. But who knows if I'll ever get a chance to make it happen.
Anyway, this trip down memory lane is brought to you by the man and woman I was just following for a few miles, wearing matching white helmets, riding his-and-hers 1970s Suzukis, a 250 and a 650. And me, following in my 4-shades-of-blue frankenstein car.
--
When I wrote this, this afternoon...and even through this evening, my mind was completely off the fact that today is the day my dad died. This is good. Definite good sign of healing.
EDIT: also, on the morning of the 1st, I made the decision to wear a different coat, because it was particularly cold out. The coat I chose was my dad's I.B.E.W. Carhartt, a jacket I hadn't worn in nearly a year. I didn't even think about the date. The mind works in mysterious ways.
When my mom got sick, her motorcycle ended up sitting more and more, and began collecting dust in the garage. My dad moved on to other subsequent motorcycles (though he never did ride quite as much again), and his Suzuki was handed down to my brother. Awhile after my mom died, her motorcycle went out to Colorado with my sister. After a while of riding it, she moved it out to the backyard, where it now sits, collecting wasps. Every time I visit, I entertain thoughts of helping her get it overhauled, seat replaced, re-chromed, and back on the road. Thankfully the elements in CO haven't destroyed it. But who knows if I'll ever get a chance to make it happen.
Anyway, this trip down memory lane is brought to you by the man and woman I was just following for a few miles, wearing matching white helmets, riding his-and-hers 1970s Suzukis, a 250 and a 650. And me, following in my 4-shades-of-blue frankenstein car.
--
When I wrote this, this afternoon...and even through this evening, my mind was completely off the fact that today is the day my dad died. This is good. Definite good sign of healing.
EDIT: also, on the morning of the 1st, I made the decision to wear a different coat, because it was particularly cold out. The coat I chose was my dad's I.B.E.W. Carhartt, a jacket I hadn't worn in nearly a year. I didn't even think about the date. The mind works in mysterious ways.