MYSPACE: [May 5, 2007] WHEN I GO TO THE TRACK....
[May 5, 2007] WHEN I GO TO THE TRACK....
Current mood: mischievous
When I go to the track, there isn't a whole lot to do. I have a lot of time to reflect. There's a lot of alone time, while Paul is riding, getting ready to ride, coming back from a ride, and visiting with his buds. Fortunately, this time, my son Christopher went with us. I had a pal to hang with. Christopher and I had a good time. We hung out in the car and watched "Milton the Monster Show" on DVD on my laptop we plugged into the cigarette lighter. We bought food from the barbecue area. We ate barbecued Bratwurst on a bun, baked beans and corn. Chris ate my corn. I'm allergic. We walked to the bleachers and watched Paul race around the track and walked back to the car. We did our math homework. We played free cell. We drank Propel (Gatorade) that was free. We ate snacks we'd brought along. We visited a couple of sweet Dachshunds that someone brought to the track. Christopher and I get along really well. So, we had a good time, despite the fact, Paul was tweaked that his teacher didn't show up.
Paul had paid a few hundred dollars to have a professional follow him around the track and give him pointers. Since it was only Saturday, I was sure the man was still coming, just coming on Sunday, not today. When Paul tried phoning him, the call would not go through. This only made Paul's mood worse. He was sure he had been scammed by this well-known guy. Paul had been cheated on E-bay by someone else. Why not by this famous guy, too? So, Paul bad mouthed the guy to our group of five and a couple of the others in charge of the track. Paul went on to say, he was done with motorcycling and wanted to sell his bike. Christopher and I had heard him go on like this before. The whole selling his bike routine happened when I didn't accompany him to the track the last time he went. Christopher and I didn't say a word.
Sure enough, the teacher phoned and apologized for his phone not accepting calls and being broken the past week. He was coming on Sunday, just like I had figured and had told Paul earlier. Paul didn't feel better yet, but his badmouthing the guy stopped.
Later in the day, when Christopher and I were in the car alone, he asked, "When do you think I'll be able to ride a motorcycle?"
"When you can afford to buy your own," I said.
"Oh great, by that time, I'll be a middle-aged man who constantly wants to sell his bike."
I laughed so hard. That kid cracks me up.
Current mood: mischievous
When I go to the track, there isn't a whole lot to do. I have a lot of time to reflect. There's a lot of alone time, while Paul is riding, getting ready to ride, coming back from a ride, and visiting with his buds. Fortunately, this time, my son Christopher went with us. I had a pal to hang with. Christopher and I had a good time. We hung out in the car and watched "Milton the Monster Show" on DVD on my laptop we plugged into the cigarette lighter. We bought food from the barbecue area. We ate barbecued Bratwurst on a bun, baked beans and corn. Chris ate my corn. I'm allergic. We walked to the bleachers and watched Paul race around the track and walked back to the car. We did our math homework. We played free cell. We drank Propel (Gatorade) that was free. We ate snacks we'd brought along. We visited a couple of sweet Dachshunds that someone brought to the track. Christopher and I get along really well. So, we had a good time, despite the fact, Paul was tweaked that his teacher didn't show up.
Paul had paid a few hundred dollars to have a professional follow him around the track and give him pointers. Since it was only Saturday, I was sure the man was still coming, just coming on Sunday, not today. When Paul tried phoning him, the call would not go through. This only made Paul's mood worse. He was sure he had been scammed by this well-known guy. Paul had been cheated on E-bay by someone else. Why not by this famous guy, too? So, Paul bad mouthed the guy to our group of five and a couple of the others in charge of the track. Paul went on to say, he was done with motorcycling and wanted to sell his bike. Christopher and I had heard him go on like this before. The whole selling his bike routine happened when I didn't accompany him to the track the last time he went. Christopher and I didn't say a word.
Sure enough, the teacher phoned and apologized for his phone not accepting calls and being broken the past week. He was coming on Sunday, just like I had figured and had told Paul earlier. Paul didn't feel better yet, but his badmouthing the guy stopped.
Later in the day, when Christopher and I were in the car alone, he asked, "When do you think I'll be able to ride a motorcycle?"
"When you can afford to buy your own," I said.
"Oh great, by that time, I'll be a middle-aged man who constantly wants to sell his bike."
I laughed so hard. That kid cracks me up.
posted by Elizabeth Van Cleve Randolph | 10:11 PM
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