Harley Davidson has Nothing on Your Deck of Cards
Quick. Wolf down that bowl of cereal while you rip through your Saturday morning cartoons. Rush up that flight of stairs and toss on the pair of carpenter jeans your mom bought you from Old Navy. Your chores are done. The sun is up. Your buddies have lit up the landline like the 4th of July. Your day is wide open.
Wait. Wait. Wait! Don't you dare leave the house without that fresh deck of cards. For on this day....we ride.
Before the Sons were full of Anarchy. Before Mr. Davidson constructed his first motorcycle. Before Jesus turned water into wine. There was a minty fresh deck of cards. A pile of clothespins. Your shiny Huffy. And a pair of legs that would take you to the farthest tree house in the neighborhood.
You never truly cherished boyhood until you nestled into the saddle and harnessed the power of your bike with the spokes crammed full of spades, clubs, diamonds and hearts. Do you remember? God. The look on folks' faces as your gang tore through their neighborhoods. The sheer bewilderment followed quickly by relief. They were bracing for an earthquake....for you had just triggered movement on the Richter Scale.
The wave of emotions was galactic. It was our first taste of power. Forget what your buddy was squawking about as he rode next to you. You can't hear him anyway. Fool was probably huffing on about that damn note he got from Suzy the day before in Algebra class. Who needs that?! You just wanted to RIDE.
And at the end of the day, as you shuffled into the house both physically and emotionally exhausted, your mother asked how your day was. You tossed that battered collection of cards....your motor....onto the table and sat down. Mom just shook her head while your dad cut you a quick smile that said, 'You done good, son. You done good.'
So the next time you hop on your bike, pocket a deck of cards if you're feeling dangerous and trigger the needle on that Scale one more time.
And ride on....