IT was bound to happen. After months of watching him race down the hills in Geneva, near misses and helmet speculation, the big crash finally occured. (Not on my watch, though! Yesterday I had him by the collar of his shirt, choking him to get him to a stop on a particularly steep section, trying as well to keep a hold of Cooper in the jog stroller.)
A hitch, a slight break in the glue that was holding a previous break, a wobble...and it was over. Tommy came tumbling down! The first of many, I'm sure, but the road rash spotting his hairline and forehead, the skin gone from his shoulder and elbow, the crunched up fingers...that was all it took for him to reluctantly agree that it was time to head to the bike store for a helmet. Daddy took him down and picked one out, which is perfect in a way. John spent many hours and hundreds of miles riding his bike throughout the county years back, chasing away memories and hoping for new. I hope he is able to find absolute joy in the prospect of happier miles with his young sons and hours spent picking out helmets, finding and building up the perfect bike and sharing the memories together.
Up at Cable Street aka the "struction", Tommy took advantage of the new and beautiful fresh laid asphalt that they've been working on all summer. What a wonderful evening to "pick his line" as he flew down Cable without a construction worker in site. ( I wonder what Great Great Grandpa Otis would think?) Tomorrow they will never guess a little boy was marring the smooth surface of their project! Soon the masses will return. It will be back to being a major route to Sudden Valley, full of cars, trucks and noise. But tonight, at least, Cable belonged to him!
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