an attempt at changing the subject completely

My mom-The Fonz, sent me some pictures yesterday. This was one of them. I chose to upload this ONE picture because it’s me (#7) at the gate with my fellow racers. All the other ones of me ALL alone…somewhere in the far back…struggling.

Yes, I raced BMX. I had a GT with Haro wheels and a Gooseneck. I was stylin’. I also really sucked, but then again there were never any girls racing and I always had to race against boys.

I had NINE 3rd place trophies. At the time it seemed to suck. Second place would have been great. I can’t even imagine what first place would have felt like. Now though, looking back. I should have been more proud of myself.
I wish I could find the picture of my dad and I after I won my first trophy.
(as I was writing that last line I remembered my sister made me a photo album of all my younger pictures…and I found it…and I cried when I did)

That’s my dad. He was so proud of me.

I loved that time in my childhood. It was fun. It was me, mom & dad and my bike.
It was fun, huh mom?

My mom was the coolest. She would sit in the back of the pickup truck in a lawn chair and big ass cowboy hat and whistle louder than anyone I’ve ever known. Even with the helmet on, the yelling and the rowdy redneck crowd, I could hear my mom whistle.

Now I guess that was mom’s way of saying, ‘Get ‘er Done!’