Sometimes the wreck is part of the ride...

When I was five years old my Dad brought home an Indian mini motorcycle and I remember I still had training wheels on my bicycle.  I guess my short legs couldn't peddle fast enough to get going but I had no problem getting down the road on that tiny Indian.  My love of motorcyles started at a young age and I have my Dad to thank. Through that little motorcycle he actually taught me one of the most valuable lessons I've ever learned.  The neighborhood kids I rode with had bigger bikes than me but I what I lacked in cc's I made up for in heart.  After making it up a really challenging hill, I was going too fast when I hit the hill at the top of the hill, and did an endo.  I was scuffed up pretty good and crying and the last thing I wanted to do was get back on the bike but my Dad knew something I didn't.  He made me ride all the way home and I still remember how dramatic I was about it all...I think I actually hated the bike and was beyond mad at my Dad that day, but looking back I understand why he did that and I am eternally grateful to him.  He knew that if I didn't ride that bike home, I would probably never ride again.  He taught me that sometimes the wreck is part of the ride and you have to get back up and keep going, I love you Dad! 😎