My dad found out that I have never ridden (rode?) any of his Harleys before and he decided that this would be the day.
Confession, I have not ridden a motorcycle since I was like.....8? I remember being in the front of my dad's red dirtbike and pretended that I was pushing the gas and I was really driving. We would get on the highway out by the Coolidge airport, the sun was just setting and the desert was cold. I would curl up in a little ball on the gas tank and hold my head down until we got home. I did this so my eyes wouldn't freeze to death and bugs on the teeth is rather nasty. It was fun. I was little.
So my mom throws a jacket on me, gloves and a goofy helmet. (that does not fit over my pony tail, so rewind, fix hair down, then put helmet back on) Dad says get on the left (just like a horse!) so I wouldn't burn my leg on the exhaust pipes (not like a horse). After an entertaining balancing act on my part, I finally manage to get on the B*&^% seat. No he doesn't call it that but we needed some true motorcycle slang here. Engine blares and my teeth start to rattle. (note to self keep mouth tightly shut) My dad says, "You have a back rest back there, feel free to lean back." I say to myself, "Not a chance." Arms are placed around my dad and we are off.
Nice and slow down the drive way. No problem, this is easy and just fine. Turn south on Attaway Road with a gorgeous sunset to look at (and distract me). I check the speedometer. 45, I am doing GREAT!! Then he starts his dad stuff. We weave back and forth from lane to lane. Holy Guacamole I can see the pavement get two feet closer as we lean side to side. Of course my grip is getting tighter and I swear I heard him chuckle. Weaving stops......thank you Gods that prefer things to be completely vertical.
Daddy is not done......He speeds up, no I am too much of a wuss to see how fast he was going. I couldn't have looked if I wanted to. My hands grasping his jacket (probably leaving permanent nail marks in the shape of crescent moons), and my head turned to the side as my body sunk into a warm spot behind his back. Let me tell you I was not in the right attire for this. Capris make a glorious wind tunnel that goes straight up the legs and stays circling around your behind. Too cold and too much of a chicken to take a glimpse at the speedometer.
He once told me his Harley went X mph in X seconds. I am sure what ever those X's are, it happened.
We hit the end of the pavement and he turns around. No words are exchanged and he guns it again. Again the X formula started all over again. Suddenly he slows down and I get the courage to look up to see if there is a reason. Oncoming traffic (farm truck). Thank you daddy for being considerate of the farmer's life. Farm truck passes and the zig zagging starts again. I am pretty sure he is laughing at me again. I made a sound somewhere between a Scream and a Squeal..... I think it sound like SQUEEEEEEEEEEE! A fun but terrified to death sound effect I would say.
At last the turn signal is on and we pull back into the driveway. I start to release my fingernails before he parks hoping he would never know about it. (totally didn't work, he made fun of me later on this)
I walk to the porch and my mom is staring.....glaring at me. "You guys are already back?," she says in doubt. "Yes," comes the inner child voice. "You were only gone like maybe 5 minutes." Well, I didn't respond because that eternity of those 5 minutes will always be in my mind.
Daddy walks up to the porch and says, "Hey whens the last time you rode a motorcycle? Did you forget how to place your body when we swerve?" My response, "Dad, the last time I rode, I was 8 years old and tiny and it didn't really matter how I moved my body." I think my dad was in shock that he hadn't thrown me on a bike since then........I believe he is going to try to make up for lost time.......I hope I can get used to this..............
(BTW the picture is a burn I made for my dad for father's day a couple of years ago.)
I also took a moment to hang up our souvenir from Disney Land. We got a embroidered coat of arms for Taylor and Simper. It looks great with our Scottish sword (Wedding Cake knife) and one of our wedding portraits.
OK, this picture was just bad timing. I asked her where her nose was and she pointed to it very accurately.
Here is my pretty little girl and her ditty. My little girl has crazy hair. It is curly, wavy, swirly, and makes ringlets if you get just enough peanut butter or macaroni and cheese in it.
I think she will have the Farrah Fawcett do someday unless we get it a little under control. The 70's look is coming back right? Look they are identical twins. Maybe she will even get those perfect teeth too. But unfortunately with some Taylor genes, her teeth are gonna need braces. If Melody is Farrah for Halloween, would anyone get it?
Look at this awesome "junk" I found at the Annual West School Rummage Sale. SO many ideas run through my head but I can't decide on one. I was thinking of turning the mirror into something you would see in Snow White's cottage or Gepetto's workshop...kind of a German cuckoo clock feel. Not sure what the little bench will be. A little fabric to reupholster (hardest word for me to spell ever!) and the red has got to go. There is nothing red in our house.....except for Quintin's room but I don't think his Cat in the Hat motif needs a little bench.
