The End... Or Is It

And so another step has been made in my 13-year-old's trip to adulthood. It makes me sad, but at the same time happy I guess. It taught me a lesson too. You see I and my daughter have been walking in the evening, but on this day we decided to leave the dogs home and take the bikes instead.

Well this involved getting the bikes out the garage (which was a task) and then making sure that the tires had enough air, and making little adjustments to the seat and handlebars. With that all done we were off. It's not like we were on a cross-country trip or anything, we were just looking to go around the neighborhood.

Now my daughter and I have a sort of relationship that I'm sure many father/daughter relationships mirror. I tease her, not too much, but just enough to get under her skin. And she protests, but not too much, and thus it kind of goes around and around.

And what was I teasing her about? I like to get on the bike and act crazy, like I'm going to wreck into her and such. Is this retarded? Most definitely, but I do it anyway, I don't know why. And this makes my daughter have much stress, which makes me do it even more. So here you have a teenage girl and an old fat man, acting like buffoons on bicycles. Sound great doesn't it?

And then we get to the part where I got served, which really, I do not like, but I knew that one day it would have to come. As I was engaged in tomfoolery, (trying to act like I was going to wreck into my daughter) I let my mouth write a check that my ass, or lungs as it were, could not cash. She just started pedaling as fast as she could, and I could not catch her.

I tried, I mean, I ran my bike through its gears and it simply wasn't enough to gain on her. That or I need more seat time to get back in shape. Because by the time we got back to the house, I was beat like a rented mule or redheaded step-child. I tried to gather myself back up, but really, I strung myself all along the road, It would take some time before I could even speak.

I eventually did speak, and I said, "Let me sit down, you gave me a heart attack!" (Really I almost gave myself a heart attack, but mom always taught me guilt) And so there it is, my daughter doesn't really have to put up with the old fat man acting like a lunatic when he gets on a bike anymore, she can simply pedal harder, and escape him. But don't think this is the end. Now I'll have to think of different ways to get under her skin.