For the past few days I visited my daughter and her family. I had no reason to justify taking the time away from other tasks that needed completing, but I just wanted to go.
The first evening, Joshie, my 12 year old grandson sat beside me, his big blue eyes reading my face. “Grammy, have you ever ridden a Quad?”
Flashes of newscasts on the dangers of such toys swept through my mind. My face must have registered my fear and that I knew exactly where this question was going, because he instantly started to laugh.
“Grammy, there is rules. When you follow them nothing happens.”
Hesitantly, I rose from the soft comfy couch and forced a smile. “Let’s go.”
My sixty year old leg had a wee bit of difficulty swinging over the passenger seat to reach the footrest on the other side, but after a few wiggles and pushes I got to where I belonged.
Joshie climbed in front of me, squeezed the hand throttles until they roared, then turned back to me. “Don’t you just love that sound.”
“Of course,” I lied. “It has an excited tone to it.”
“Good. Are we ready?”
My fingers closed around the handles on either side of me and I nodded with all the gumption I could muster up, which wasn’t very much at all.
Joshie turned his attention back to the controls.
The quad jerked, then moved forward, slowly picking up speed.
My stomach lurched, much the way it used to do when I was brave enough to ride the tilt-a-whirl at the local fair. I gripped the handles tighter, wondering how I got myself into such a mess.
Then, in the midst of my dilemma, I felt the wind blowing through my hair, and smelled freshly baled hay as we flew across the empty field. My stomach found a safe spot and settled down. I leaned against the back of my seat. Wow. This was more fun than I’d had in years! And because of preconceived fears, I nearly missed a wonderful experience with a very special young man.