Bad Boys

Last month, my brother came to visit with my niece and nephews. It was the weekend of our neighborhood garage sale and, given that my family loves to spend their hard-earned money on other people's trash, it was an opportunity he couldn't pass up.

 

One of the great things about children (at least small children), is that they have no concept of money. To them, quarters are worth more than dollars and checks have about as much value as the wrapper to their chewing gum. So when you send them down the street with a bag full of change, you really have no idea what kind of "treasures" they will bring home. Unless, of course, one of your nephews is almost 12 and knows all about money. And 4-wheelers.

 

By some sort of magical alignment of the stars, Dylan happened upon a women who was selling two of these little guys for $25...total. Not each, not for 12 easy installments, just $25. There was some confusion as to whether they ran or needed some additional parts, but Dylan was confident his dad could get them running.

 

The thing about my brother is that he is a bit of a self-taught mechanical genius. He fixes cars, lawnmowers, and washing machines (along with computers and chain saws), so this project was right up his alley. Not surprisingly, all it took was a trip to Auto Zone, about an hour of tinkering, and these guys were road ready. As I watched the evening unfold, I couldn't help but notice that Dylan was actually the least excited of the bunch.

 

At first, he was ready for action. He watched his dad work, periodically checking for updates.

But then his confidence started to wane just a bit once he saw how loud and fast the machines were.

So Shaun, like any good father would do, kicked Dylan off and began riding around the neighborhood in the dark. David served as his trusty sidekick, watching longingly as Shaun whizzed past him.

I, like any good sister, chased after Shaun, trying to both yell at him to quit driving on the neighbor's lawn and to get him to slow down long enough to take his picture. After all, a grown ass man tearing through the subdivision on his son's teeny tiny 4-wheeler is worth capturing.

It was just a matter of minutes before my own overgrown kid wanted to go for a spin. I spent the next 20 minutes listening to him scream like a girl as he caught the wind in his hair and narrowly missed two parked cars and a mailbox. David was clearly a natural.

If they never ride them again, I will still say that was $25 well spent. I am just grateful they weren't BB guns...I think we all know how that would have ended.