The sound of the UPS man dropping the final Revzilla box into the garage signalled that the day was here. The Wing-girl was ready. A bit timid though. As we scooted to the edge of the driveway, she wrapped her arms around me and asked if we had to go down the hill? Yes, my child, we did. There's no direction off the top of this small hill that doesn't lead down.
|Happy new rider.|
Pulling away from stoplights gave her a taste for acceleration. After dinner, she asked if we could take the freeway home. "Okay." I can't hear a whole lot at freeway speeds beyond wind and engine noise, but I could sure hear some musical tinkling laughter every time I goosed the throttle to get up to freeways speeds. Someone is hooked, and I've got a new passenger, at least until she's old enough to get her own ride.