The Good Old Days

When I think of the good old days, you are the first person to come to mind. Back in those days I was up before the sun every day... No Excuses. I remember I would start asking to go to your house almost immediately when I woke up on weekends that I knew you had at your dad's. Mom usually held me back until at least 10 AM before I was allowed to start knocking on the door. At that point I would jump on my bike for the 1/4 mile trek down the gravel road, usually to find out that you were not quite up yet. From there I would keep stopping by every 30 minutes until you were ready to play. Which could only be in 30 minute increments... Do you remember that? We had 30 minute curfew's to that we were allowed to play at each others house. At which point we would just ask to go play at the others house.

I remember playing in the mudhole in front of my house chasing the tiniest frogs imaginable, to look behind and you had lost your boots completely stuck in the mud ready to loose your things. I was full outdoors man back in those days. Wanted to be just like dad. Spending all of my free time riding my bike and chasing some sort of animal. I would go back to help and get myself stuck. By the end of it I'm sure we both had gone head first in the mud trying to get out! At this point we were probably told that it was time to stop playing together for the day as we were both a complete wreck. I'm sure that I was angry that I made it through on my own fine, only to get messy trying to help you. In reality It was just about impossible to get through that mudhole if you weren't the first one through it.

Years later our bikes turned to mopeds, three-wheelers, and go carts. I have nearly forgotten about the go-carts by this point. I remember that you always had this big BA oddessy, and It was all I could do to keep up on the grasshopper. I remember desperately trying to keep up one day coming from our soon to be motocross track to Mark's house when I hit big hole sideways and went rolling. I had no helmet on our anything. I am pretty sure that I hurt myself pretty good, but I was too tough to let that stop me. Besides that I was probably too proud of my amazing go-carting skills to even admit that I would have crashed. By the time I caught up I just played it off like I needed a break. Which would be completely obvious because there was nothing that made me want to take a break from riding back in those days.