Monday, April 30, 2007
I think the first thing I said when Greg brought up racing was something supportive like "And I think I will start shooting up heroin". Yes, his hobby was legal, but risky. And as the funny fates would have it, I have always been afraid of car crashes - phobic of driving at times, justifying my fear with crazy stats. But I grew up rural and learned how to drive and deal with white knuckles.
Let's just say that racing scares me. Greg's hobby gives me hives.
But I am not his mother, so he races.
Yesterday we went on a drive up around Mt. St. Helens with Greg's car club. (Car scouts? Car team? Car comrades? I don't know what to call them.) I wish I could have snapped a good picture of Ms. Helens all dressed in snow. She was lovely. We were smack dab on her, and whenever I got a decent view, we would zip around the corner and she'd be gone.
I didn't know I could play cat and mouse with an active volcano.
The kids were so tranquil and calm; this after a tumultuous trip home from church. Twenty five minutes after the last amen, and my kids were driving each other nuts in the way siblings do. I had serious doubts about climbing into another car, for FUN. But they were game. And sweet.
We stopped and um, hung out and visited with strangers along the way. It seemed a little funny to me, this caravan way of driving, but no one else seemed to be complaining so I kicked back, stuck my hair in my hat and enjoyed the ride.
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