They say March "comes in like a lion, and goes out like a lamb" but the beginning of our March was motorcycle riding weather.
This was me and my dear daughter 13 years ago. My hair is a little shorter, it is red again, and I am a few (I'm not saying how many) pounds heavier, and the motorcycle has long been sold due to economic conditions. I did love riding my motorcycle! Wind and bugs in your face, nothing like it!
My younger brother has a motorcycle, my youngest brother has a motorcycle, my other younger brother had a motorcycle, my husband has 2 motorcycles, and my younger sister's husband wants a motorcycle.
It is almost as bad as my brother David, my husband David, my brother-in-law David.
I think I know where we get this motorcycle gene. It is my mom. No, her name is not David. I remember being 18 years old and just going into the workforce while attending the junior college at night. I had made a bunch of friends at the speaker factory where I worked and when my dad opened up his own business I got mom a job at the same place so she would have something to do, well OK, so she could help pay the mortgage while the new business got off the ground. It is funny how we can change history in our story telling, isn't it?
I had the early shift and was at mom and dad's house when I hear my friend's motorcycle come roaring around the curve and pull in front of the house. I look out the window and here is MY MOM getting off the back and handing Alistair his spare helment. Now my mom was not old by any means (I now consider 50 young and she was not even close to that), but all I can remember thinking is "Oh great, what are the neighbors going to think!" For my dad's 75th birthday she bought him an ATV. Then for his other gift she bought herself one, too. They ride them all over in the desert in Arizona.
My mom was and always will be a rebel. She married my dad, moved to Germany, then moved 3000 miles from her home out to California, and many miles from her family. She raised 5 kids as a SAHM (stay at home mom), and while we may not be the rebel she is, we turned out pretty darn good. We may not have had the most money in the world, but we had a beautiful home, a wonderful school and church, a swimming pool, dogs and cats, bikes, friends galore, and a mom who loved life to the max. Growing up we knew better than to eat our lunch on April 1. Pity the poor fool who traded with us. Soap covered in chocolate, love notes between the ham and cheese were standard for the tricky mom. My dad got even worse, he had no one to trade with for his tricks. Lets see, one year she ironed a hole in his hanky and when he went to blow his nose there was nothing in the middle. I still like the year she sewed his fly shut on his dress pants, with the sewing machine.
My mom is still full of it, life I mean. She is a little older now (I now consider 80 middle age) but you would not know it. She volunteers at the thrift store, makes cards for the Chemo Angels ( She is a Chemo Angel for this organization http://www.chemoangels.net/ ), serves up holiday dinners for the homeless, and any other thing she can do to help someone out. For her 80th birthday the kids are going in on her gift. We are going to get her a tattoo! Yup, my mom the rebel.
Now they tell me we will be getting snow next week! So much for "going out like a lamb". Well, at least we still have April 1st to look forward to. I wonder who my mom is making lunch for?