My son Brendan is a chatterbox. He rode with me twice today and, both times, didn’t stop talking the entire time. I had to turn the radio off and keep the A/C down low so I could hear him asking questions, telling me things and just generally keeping a hold of my attention. It wasn’t a bad thing! I love that he talks. He has thoughts and feelings and questions that, occasionally, get overshadowed by his slightly older brother.
The second time he rode with me, we were going to Richard’s Diesel to pick up my Rendezvous. Rendy was being checked over for the overheating problem and we found out it was a radiator in awful condition. So, he was replacing it – Richard, that is. Today, he is supposed to be done and we drove off to go get it.
Richard was busy, so we wandered around a bit. Those of you that know my town know that there is a biker bar right next to Richard’s shop. It’s called Muddy’s and it’s got bikes of all shapes and sizes all day – from opening to closing. We were walking around and there was a “fire-engine” red Harley sitting out front.
My chatterbox got curious, started asking me questions and talking about the Harley. I told him it was impolite to touch someone’s bike without permission. He said, “I want to drive it. I think I’m big enough!” I reminded him of the rules about others’ bikes. He got the saddest look on his face.
So, being the mom I am, I sat him on the bench in front of Muddy’s Bar with a stern warning to, “DON’T MOVE!” He listened, as is his normal way, and I went inside. I asked the bartender, “Do you know who owns the red Harley out front?” Immediately, about 5 people asked, “Did you hit it?” I said, “NO! Of course not!”
I eventually tracked down the owner of the bike in the bar. He was in the head and was just walking out. I asked and he affirmed it was his bike. I said (with everyone craning their neck to hear what was going on), “I’ve got a 4-year old outside curious as all hell about your bike. Would you mind coming out to give him a look-see?”
This man was as big as the black bear we saw in Yellowstone last week. From height to weight, he was massive and his voice matched, “But of course! Let’s go!”
He came outside with me to my son, who was still sitting on the bench where I put him. Brendan looked up, and up, and up and saw the man and froze. He had started to ask me, “Did you find him?” However, his voice box took leave of his body. He had no voice, even worse than a preacher after a fierce sermon on Sunday afternoon. He had no words, just eyes as big as the plates we eat dinner on.
The man was as gentle as he was big and he took Brendan by the hand, put him on the bike with him and fired it up – completely and loudly. Now, not only did my son lose his voice but I believe he lost all use of his limbs, as well. He couldn’t figure out what to do with a man that size making so much noise with his motorcycle.
The man was having a great time showing off his bike; however, now my son was unable to breathe – much less listen or speak at all! I’m quite sure every one of his senses departed him. So, I’ll put the biker’s words here for future reminding to him. Remember, my poor boy is only 4 and this man was as big as a house!
Turns out, this is a 2003 Harley Davidson Firefighter’s edition. This version started in 2002 and you had to have papers proving you were a firefighter. This man ordered his and has a 2003 version. It came with no emblems stating it was the “Firefighter’s Edition;” however, this man could order his own pieces to add to the bike. He has 40,000 miles on it and it has special steps for his wife.
Oh, and as it turns out, it was the Captain of the Idaho Falls Fire Department and his bike! How’s that for luck? He asked if Brendan wanted to be a firefighter and I looked, Brendan had swallowed his tongue – and couldn’t answer. Then, he asked if Brendan wanted a bike like that when he was bigger. My poor son hid behind me, at this point.
Look close at some of his fireman emblems. There’s a bigger firefighter shield on the other side.
We thanked the “Black Bear” for his time with his bike. As soon as the man opened the door to Muddy’s Bar and disappeared, my son said, “I want that bike, Mom!”
I started laughing and he said, “I have to be a firefighter to ride it, don’t I?”
I said, “Yep.”
He said, “I want to be a firefighter. I want to ride that bike. It was LOUD!”
… and the chatter started up all over again and lasted until we got home and then he ran off to play with his brother.
Thank you for listening,