Passing the torch? Teaching the younglings? work in progress

Today was a red-letter day. Not the kind of "Your account is past-due, please pay us now" kind of red-letter day, but rather, parenting done right kind of day. Since 2012, I have been making a pilgrimage of sorts to the Vancouver Motorcycle Show, in the Abbotsford Tradex. I have gone by myself, with friends, and now this year, with my son. Let me regale you how this came about....

The Motorcycle Show is a welcome break in a long winter. To a biker, winter is an unfriendly, unholy penalty for having too much fun in summer. Thus, winter takes on an extra unpleasantness. I have not found anything that replaces, or even soothes the loss I feel when my bike becomes parked due to snow or lack of insurance. Taking a 4 hour bus ride through treacherous mountainous passes just to rub your genitals on motorcycles that hundreds before you have rubbed their genitals and warmed the seats on, seems like a reasonable trade, to relieve the misery of winter.

Last year, I may have said to Evan, "One year, I will take you to the show" and he took that to mean, "This year we are going to the Motorcycle show!" and it's a good thing we did!  Turns out, the bus trip is less and less attended every year, and the proprietors of the bus are considering cancelling the program after this year. We bounced out of bed bright and shiny at before 6 am, ready for a big adventure in the city. I had my apprehensions, bringing mini-me to an environment that pushes my tolerances to their breaking point, but we went anyway. Good learning opportunity for the lad, I reasoned, seeing his dad freak out on some dumbass that stopped in a walkway to gawk at something shiny.

My apprehensions, though totally valid, were unfounded, as Evan ran through the show like a nut-starved squirrel seeing an oak forest for the first time. All the manufacturers lifting their skirts and showing their wares, with a grizzled dad offering opinions on many of the bikes on display.  The highlight for Evan by far was the Yamaha Young Riders Academy, where kids can get suited up in proper riding gear, taught by the famous Clinton Smout, and set free on little blue Yamaha's, to careen around and fully embrace a junkie's addiction to the two wheeled sport. Now I need to figure out a way to buy a truck and utility trailer, to haul the dirt bikes we need to buy, out to the trails.