Big Boy Dreams

I was just like him growing up. I loved motorcycles.
I remember the first time I actually rode one all by myself.
I was twelve I think, I can’t say for sure, but the feeling has never left me.
My mom had dropped me off for the summer with friends. I had never met them before. She barely knew them herself, but they were nice to me and they had a farm and a big old-fashioned barn. The perfect place, as it turns out, for a boy’s ample imagination to spend the summer.

I caught pigeons, got bucked off a horse, kissed a girl, and I rode a motorcycle for the very first time. The bruises finally went away from that wild bronco ride and while the girl was pretty, I’m guessing there’s been a boy or two since that warm summer night. But that motorcycle. She was special, and I won’t ever forget her.

I imagine Jesse too will ride a horse one day and maybe even get bucked off. If he plays his cards right he might even kiss a girl or two before he finds that “right” one. But that motorcycle…I can see the love in his eyes already.

I took this quick shot of Jesse a few days back in our garage. He loves that shiny black Harley. He can’t sit on it long enough or often enough. The day I took this shot, he was leaning on it, lost in thought. Dreaming like I used to, I’d like to imagine, about lonely winding roads filled with fresh air and sunshine, the primal throb of that big engine, and the incredible feeling of freedom.

This Week

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