Saturday, February 7, 2009

Flashback Frid...er...Saturday

Caution: This post contains the word "shit". A bunch.

When Tavis and I were dating we went to his shop and I saw a cute little 50cc Honda motorcycle. I'd never driven a motorcycle before so I jumped on. He had a pretty big yard behind the shop where he kept all his equipment so I rode around back there. Weaving in and out of track-hoes. Dodging dozers. It was FUN! Yes, I was extremely big for this "bike". (It's best suited for say...a 5-10 year-old) And even though I crashed into the teeny, tiny garbage dumpster I had so much fun and I couldn't stop thinking about riding that thing. I dreamed about it. I just wanted to get back on it. Tav grew up riding motorcycles and loved them. So when I showed an interest in them he jumped. We went that very weekend and he bought me my very own. (I would receive criticism from my family that he had bought me a motorcycle instead of an engagement ring.)

The bike he bought me was a 125cc. It was too small for me in size. Also, Tav knew I would outgrow it skill-wise in just a matter of time and require a bigger "cc" bike soon. Well, that spring and summer I rode the hell out of that bike. It was so much fun! I was pretty impressed with myself. I could climb hills and grab gears while doing it. I could ride down steep hills (but only if Tavis was at the bottom telling me he knew I could do it). I rode so much better if he was behind me. He was my courage. He knew my skill level as well as the capabilities of my bike and if he told me I could do something, I knew I could. He'd never lead me astray.


Eventually, I got good enough to carry a passenger. I'd put Avery on in front of me and Tav would put Hayden in front of him. They. Loved. It. And again, I was pretty good!


Now, let me just say that I did fall a few (several) times. But I've only "wrecked" maybe, 3 or 4 times and even then I just got scraped up and bruised. (Which I actually loved because it gave me bragging rights at work.) All the other times I would just dump my bike. Like just tip over. Especially in the sand or really soft dirt. These dumps didn't hurt.


So in July after Tav and I got married we went to his family's reunion. (Avery was 5 and Hayden, 7) His whole family is into ATV riding. We took Hayden and Avery on a ride one day. Like usual, I had Avery with me and Tavis had Hayden with him. (I should note that they both loved to ride with Tav because he'd go fast and make small jumps. Mom was much more cautious.) We were cruisin' along when all of a sudden we hit some sand, right on a turn. Avery and I dumped it. As we fell I said, "oh shit."

To which Avery replied, "oh shit."
I said to her, "did you just say 'shit'?"
Avery: (Looking up at me with sheer horror on her face as she realized what she just said.) (Picture "Ralphie" from "A Christmas Story")
Avery: "Uh...uh...uh...uh"
Me: "It's ok, baby girl. When you're falling off a motorcycle sometimes you gotta say, 'shit'."
Avery: (WHEW!!!!) "hahaha."
Tavis and Hayden: "A ha ha ha!!!"

So we pick ourselves up and brush ourselves off and I pick up my bike. Now, I don't know how many of you are familiar with motorcycles, (yes, my family, I'm talking to you) but when your bike tips over gas spills out of the top of the gas cap. I know this is some kind of safety feature but I'm not sure why. Anyway, I get back on and get Avery back on with me and she looks down and sees the gas on the gas tank, right in front of her.


Avery: "Now what's all this hellin' gas doin' on here?"
Me: "BAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!!! OK, munchkin. First of all, clean up the talk. Second of all, if you're gonna cuss you need to have it make sense. It's what's all this damn (I wasn't going to go into the other swear word option) gas doing on here?"


That's the end of the flashback. I should wrap it up by saying that I did outgrow that bike. In every way possible. Tav got me an enduro (off road as well as street legal) that is 200cc. I loved riding it around town. But on one trip to the canyon I got spooked because I almost got hit by a van on a dirt road. So the next time we went riding I was nervous which makes for squirly riding. Avery and I were on my bike again and we dumped it. This time, however, we were on a steep hill with jagged rocks and we got pretty banged up. I rode back to camp and have never taken my bike off road again. Of course, I was pregnant during part of that time and then had a newborn last summer so I really couldn't go anyway. I've lost my nerve, though. Tav's building us a dune buggy that will be done this spring. I'll drive that around with Harley and Avery. Tavis, Hayden and Dalton will ride their bikes. (Hayden rides the 50cc I spoke of four days ago at the beginning of this post) I seriously can't wait til summer!!!

8 comments:

DeNae said...

I have never, ever laughed as much over a blog post as I did over this one, little sister! Hooted! Read it to David, who also hooted! You are such a THOROUGH mother. It's very important that we teach our children the proper context and use of all language, including cussing.

Of course, we were trained by Zen masters when it came to swearing. Our parents, like Ralphie's father, "worked in profanity the way other artists worked in oils or clay. It was [their] true medium."

Too, too funny! Your best so far!

Amber said...

Really???? YAY!!! Thank you!

alotalot said...

I am so impressed with you! I would never have the courage to drive a motorcycle.

I appreciate your swearing grammar lesson too. :) I watched a 4 year old enrage his mother one day by continually saying "shit" and she gasped and looked shocked each time. We were waiting for Chinese take-out, and he knew she wasn't going to freak too badly. If she had just laughed it off he probably would have been over it sooner.

Kristina P. said...

My husband wants a motorcyle, and I won't let him get one. I'm a worry wart, mean wife.

Keely said...

Aw, I was going to get you to teach me to ride, too. Can't you get your nerve back for a little while?

When X starts to talk I'll tell him he can swear as long as it's appropriate for the locale and grammatically correct. Ya gotta have standards.

Keely said...

Oh! And when my grandparents got engaged grandpa gave my grandmother a pearl-handled Beretta. So you can tell your parents the bike isn't THAT bad ;)

Dad/grandpa said...

I'm sure you were taught the only time the "S" word could be used with impunity was after one of the many golf shots that some how went of course. Never to be heard coming from the mouth of my grand-daughter. Grandpa's trump all - - -well all except grandmas.

Amber said...

Dad/Grandpa--I was seriously going to say that in my post! I forgot to, though! I knew there were only two times where it was appropriate: falling off a motorcycle and on the golf course! LOL too funny!