2nd Annual Bike Trip

Here's my boy. Sometimes, he's still my baby 'cause he's my snuggler but he doesn't really want to be my "baby." When he's leaving me for a camping trip with Granddad, though, he really becomes my baby - but only to me. This isn't the lad's first motorcycle trip, either. No sirrey. Last year they went to Bruneau Sand Dunes and I guess I was so beside myself that I couldn't post about it??? I don't know, because that story isn't here. :( Anyway..... this one is!

Here's my boy. My big boy. Wearing my mother's helmet. The helmet I would wear if I wear going instead. Yes, he's 4. I tell ya what, the kid has a melon! It's gargateous!!! Don't tell him I said that - that could lead to a complex down the road. Isn't he cute? Those black eyes smiling at me? Cute chubby cheeks squished in the helmet foam... ahh. What a sight.

Since there are so many pictures here for your enjoyment, I'll keep the descriptions brief. Well, as brief as any mother can who just sent her baby off on a motorcycle trip without her!!!

Here are the bikers: Granddad and Paco. Note: You always take a shot in front of the bike. Kind of like a picture when you hunt and "get something." That's all I'll say about that. For now.

Then a close up so you can see who is in the photo: Same two people.

Adjusting the helmet:

Adjusting stuff. Gloves, helmets, armrests...

Visor down and ready to go! What do mom's do when their baby is leaving on a motorcycle trip without her??? She takes LOTS of pictures. For every single shot you see her, there are 2 or 3 taken seconds apart.... it's a nerve thing, I think. She, not I, has to do something to keep busy. And to keep from crying.

They're off!

They're off still!

Yes, they are on the street right in front of the house!

I told my Dad I wasn't going to follow them this year. Seems last year I was a little something and followed them for miles. And miles. And miles. I said, "Not this year! I'm a big girl!" And yet.... when it was time to let them go:

I followed.

For this shot, I ran, I mean drove, like a crazy woman and passed them so I could stop and get some shots of the riding towards me. They didn't turn out so well. Seems to work best when one is not nervous, moving/twitching AND looks through the peep hole to insure the subjects are in the photo... small details I don't want YOU to forget.

Here they come!

See that red ball attached to grey and blue sleeves? That's my boy. The other guy? My Dad.

"Dat you, Moma? Whatcha doin' back there?"

Time to wave good-bye.

Waving. I'm WAVING BACK HERE!!! HEY!

And to save you all the grief and tears, I will NOT show you the many many many shots I took from the stop sign as they drove West, away from me. I did not follow. I went forward, on my road. And, I did not cry. Til now. So, good-night.