And After

After Brazil

And So it Ends ...

Before Brazil

Two years ago I tracked a flight from Boise to Brazil.  I lost track of it as it passed over the equator.  My nineteen year-old son was on that flight.
Tonight I will begin tracking another flight from Brazil to Boise.  My twenty-one year-old son will be on that flight.
So much has happened since he left ...
His truck has nearly worn out.
Little brother is now bigger brother by about five inches.
His baby niece walks, talks, and does somersaults without her hands.
He has another niece on the way.
Navy Seals eliminated Bin Laden.
BSU Broncos won a whole bunch of football games.
His parents have added Road Biking to their list of recreational activities.
Lots of people got married.
He speaks Portuguese.
We built a new gymnasium.
His uncle passed away.
Many things stayed the same ...
The economy still stinks.
Gas prices are still high.
The lawn still gets mowed on a regular basis.
We still speak English.
The Greens still ski.
I still bake when I'm feeling nervous.
We still love football.
Life still moves on.
This chapter is over and another begins.

I'm a Real Biker Gal Now!

I've been a bit smug as of late.  My husband has wrestled with many a flat tire since taking up his road bike hobby.  I, on the other hand, have not - until a week ago!  I ran right over that big sharp rock I had in my sights.  I was attempting to avoid it!  Funny thing about sighting in on something, I am always sure to connect! Just like a tree on a ski hill, I went right for that rock, and my tire went flat. Not so smug anymore.
That, however, pales in comparison to my Independence Day Ride!  I've ridden 15 miles on occasion.  I usually  prefer about 9 to 11 miles, but we wanted to have a "Family Activity."  We packed up the saddle bags with Gatorade and frozen water bottles, added a few granola bars, and spare bike tubes and off we pedaled!

My biking companions?

The funny thing about riding twenty miles out is that you have to ride that far back home.  Our first stop was Wilder around mile nine.  Down the hill and past the golf course to Homedale we flew only to discover all the ice cream shops were either closed for the holiday or opening later in the day.  What?  Nobody wants to sell ice cream at 9:00 am?
Homedale was quiet, as was the countryside meandering northwest towards Adrian.  At least it was quiet until the guy with the pickup and stock trailer came barreling down a hill towards a corner.  Same corner at which I would meet him!  It was him or the gravel!  I chose the gravel and the gravel won!

Now maybe I was a little scared and took the corner just a bit wide.  Maybe he didn't see me in my bright yellow shirt as I trailed my husband (bright red shirt) and son (another bright yellow shirt).
Maybe he thought he owned the road and I had no right to share it.  Maybe ... he thought if he slowed down to see if I was alive I would memorize his license plate and complain to the authorities!
Alas, my handlebar wrap is shredded, my chain came off and I had to repair it, and I have a nice case of road rash to brag about!

Road Rash!

Did I mention I had to ride another twenty miles home?

Very Tired!

I think I qualify as a real biker gal now!