The Fifth Year

My firstborn just turned five years old. There was kind of a mad dash of events leading up to her birthday party (click it!), including the Avett Brothers show that kept us out until 3 AM the night before (it was worth every second).

As usual, despite all the planning and preparation the party slipped by in a flurry of presents, cupcakes, hot sun and kids splashing in the pool. Perhaps it had something to do with the aforementioned late night, but before she or I knew it, it was bedtime and her birthday was over.

Then in came Hoppy (my dad, her grandpa) the next morning to rekindle the dwindling excitement with a very special present.

There was some assembly required.Mazzy got to help, and got a little lesson in "righty tighty, lefty loosey."They flipped it over and voila!The girl got herself a custom built vintage low rider, and another little piece of family heritage. This was the bike that both my sister and I learned to ride on.

When he pulled it out of his trunk a whole bunch of memories came out with it. I still remember waiting for my dad to fix the broken left pedal with a piece of plywood he cut perfectly to fit (you can barely see it in that last picture). And who doesn't remember the first time they realized they were riding alone, turning around to see their dad back in the distance and wham! getting their first skinned knee. One such crash left the front wheel of this bike a little off center and you still have to hold the handlebars slightly to the right for it to go straight.

Sometimes it's a good thing that my parents were always the kind to never get rid of anything. Because I can't wait to watch Mazzy ride away for the first time on those same wheels.