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We’re down to the last 10 days or so before Wally takes off for college so I decided to schedule some enforced family bonding over the weekend.
When the boys were younger we used to call this Sunday afternoon, and one of the activities included me teaching them to watch NFL games so I could have a few hours to read the Sunday paper. Of course that activity came back to bite me in the ass big time after they decided to actually play football and not just watch it.
These days we tend to bond over bike rides, something we all enjoy doing. I suspect Wally and the Snapper enjoy it most as riding precludes any serious conversation because they’re faster than I am. But I’m still smarter so I decided to throw the bikes in the car and actually drive to a location so we could have some downtime in the car.
The Snapper called shotgun, which is teen male speak for the front passenger seat. As he climbed in he informed me he had to be back by 5 pm as he had plans. I asked what her name was and he clammed up. Not one to pass up on bonding, I drilled down further and asked, “Does she play any sports?” and Wally said yes, she’d taken home the gold in the texting Olympics.
I made a mental note to actually read my cell phone bill.
We unloaded the bikes and I asked where their helmets were. Wally said, “We don’t need helmets, we don’t play games” which is teen male speak for…I don’t know what. If I did, it wouldn’t be code.
We hit the path along the river. At least, I think it was the river. We pedaled so fast I didn’t dare take my eyes off the road long enough to check. I managed to keep up with them for several miles by successfully drafting them but around mile four they opened up a significant lead and by the fifth mile they were way ahead of me.
They didn’t look back.
I charged along in the 85 degree weather and wondered if they’d come back for me if I keeled over of heat stroke.
They disappeared from view.
I thought, so much for family bonding. I contemplated pulling over and sending them a text asking to drop me a postcard when they arrived.
Instead I slowed down and thought about the fact that I had brought them to this path when they were babies and still in a bike carrier. Later I taught them to ride their 2-wheelers along the flat stretches. We took a lot of rides along this drive over the years and I can still remember the first time we raced and Wally beat me, sailing past me with a huge grin on his middle-school face.
About a mile later I decided to cheat and take a short cut, but they still beat me back to the car. As I panted up the Snapper said, “How’s that dust taste?”, the kind of teen male speak that could have gotten him in trouble if I could have caught my breath.
I sprang for lunch from the old vendor and we sat in the shade and watched the roller skate dancers wheel
