Jack and I are on a hot date. Decked out in our helmets and wick-away-sweat t-shirts, we’re biking on the Speed River Trail. Since my bike is designed mostly for roads, I struggle when the trail gets rocky, slimy or tree stumpy. But the path in the woods is MOSTLY smooth, shady and sultry. Loverly!
Aha–spoke to soon. Now our trail is riddled with mud-filled pot holes–some as big as ponds. So I hop off my bike and walk around the swampy parts through a tiny path in the trees.
Biking towards us, we see a dad and his son. The dad ploughs through one of the mud lakes. Moments later, the son follows his dad–splashing through the giant puddle. “Whoa,” the boy says after riding through the mud puddle. “I got my shirt all muddy.”
The dad snarls, “Aww….don’t be such a girl!”
Moments later, another child emerges from the tiny path in the trees–the one that skirts “mud lake.” The snarly dad’s daughter. She walks her bike silently.
My heart breaks for her. And for her brother. Guess times haven’t changed as much as I thought they had. Your thoughts?
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