You Would Have Been So Proud....

Every year, the rumble of Bike heralded The Beginning: it was the "we made it through the winter" sound of Riding Season about to start. Most years, it was relatively tame: bike moved out of basement with much grunting (his) and breath-holding (mine), a fire up and a ride down into the gully and up again to the driveway. Then the scarf, sweater, overpants, jacket, helmet and gloves, a kiss, a wave, and he was gone.

The First Ride varied in length: from only-long-enough-to-warm-up-the-oil on those times the sun's brightness fooled him into thinking it was warmer than it was, to a tank-emptying romp up the Westside Road and back. He always came home with a grin. I was always glad to hear the returning rumble.

On Thursday morning, I noticed The Jr Boy's Girl was up in the garage. From the basement without any need for my assistance. Must have happened while I was out trying to get insurance for the rescued Blue Trout Toyota.

Ten minutes ago, wrapped in sweater, scarf, jacket, gloves and helmet, TJB rumbled off. Yes, the roads are still gravelly but what's a mum to do? His dad would have been right out there with him.

And they'd have been gone for a while.


Still breathing.