A million years ago, my dad took me to school on the back of a motorcyle. I don't remember ever being afraid-thinking back to all the times we jumped railroad tracks-I probably should have been,but I wasn't. I remember hating sudden showers and how frozen my skirt felt on really cold mornings but fear wasn't there. My dad knew when some jerk might pull out in front of us and anticipated when I'd forget to lean.
This weekend I hopped on back of dear old dad again.When did he start driving so fast? Actually, I don't think he went that fast at all-it was me not being able to steer, not controlling the speed, and not being in front. It felt weird not being in control for a couple of minutes then the sun hit my face and I started enjoying the breeze. Then I noticed his shape hasn't changed-I still hold on the same way and I was back in seventh grade again(but I really didn't miss the railroad tracks).
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