Sunday, November 23, 2008
"Dad, this is the best day of my life!"
WARNING... long post
We recently became members of H.H.O.R.A. (That's Hollister Hills Off Road Association). Now that we are members we can participate in their many racing events they have each year. Yesterday our kids entered the Hare Scramble. Each child (with an escort) rode the course 3 times. Mercedes won 5th place for her age group and Beau won 2nd!! Way to go guys! Beau, my adventurous, outdoorsy, fun-loving, wanna be like dad kid had a gleam in his eyes ALL DAY LONG. The day he had been counting down for weeks had finally arrived. He kept telling us, "This is the best day of my life." How cute that of all of his 2,187 days on this earth that this has been the highlight thus far. (Yes... I actually whipped out the calculator for this one taking into account that his birthday is in 2 days!)
Mom, on the other hand, had a pretty embarassing moment. My "new" (to me) dirtbike was not behaving like a trusty iron-horse should. The throttle kept sticking and I swear it was purposely trying to buck me off. I fell down, suffering a very large bump & bruise on my thigh, and to my horror Mercedes continued on her race. I knew it would get techinical for her and did what any good mother would do in this situation... I flagged down my husband, said a word my kids would get soap for , and pouted that I was leaving the bike there and hiking to the finsish line. Being the knight in shining armor that he is he gave up his trusty steed and hopped on my lame ride. I mounted it and sped off to rescue my lonesome offspring. I caught up to her and all was well until I hit a mud patch on the racetrack near the spectators. It was all slow motion for me. The dang announcer saw it all and spews over the mic "OOOOHHHH... we've got an escort down. blah-blah-blah" (I don't know what else he said. My brain muted the rest of his commentation). So now I was left to pick up this 400cc monstrosity. (I'm used to 125cc, a much lighter bike.) I was able to pick it up, hop back on, and stick with Mercedes until her race was finished. Then I rushed back to the truck to take off my jersey & helmet so that nobody recognized me when we went back to the pit for the trophies. (BTW that ugly blue thing pictured above is the perpetrator.)
Crashes and all it felt good to get back on a bike again. And watching my children endure through the tough spots and finish the race made we swell with pride! (Or was it just my hurt ego & leg?)