The Garage

I am looking out of the opening of my garage while taking a break from whatever I have been working on. As always, there is the broken Corvette setting on the left of the driveway, just sitting patiently, waiting for me to put her back together again. Her tires are slightly low on air, just another sign that she hasn't been driven in a while.

The blue skies roll over head, and a nice cool breeze travels down the long roads, through the trees in the yard, and over the drive, teasing me to load up the girls and head out on an afternoon drive. But I am still occupied for a bit with the work in the garage. Just as I start back on the job, I hear my oldest daughter yell for me. She wants me to help her drag out the make shift ramp we cobbled together the day before and put it in the yard. She and her little sister want to ride her 4-wheeler, the Power Wheel, and their bikes off of it, so I do. Then I drag a chair out to the front of the garage as if I had just gotten front row tickets to the greatest show ever. I watch as she flips the key and turns the choke on the carb while pulling the throttle back and hitting the ignition switch with the easy, thoughtless action she has when tying her shoes. Awesome. As her face lights up with awe as if she had just struck life into Frankenstein, the motor fires to life as she adjusts the choke back a bit. She straps on her little helmet with the pink cross bones and “Bad Kitty” skull painted on the back, and off she goes. She rips through the yard, almost fearless, as she travels around the yard and back again, eating up the lawn and throwing a bit of dirt and grass out from the rear tires. As she approaches the ramp, she slows down a bit with uncertainty, possibly recalling the time she learned how fast is too fast. That time she took a corner too fast and rolled her 4-wheeler. Like father, like daughter.

She hits the ramp, and I see the uncertainty fall wayside as she punches the throttle again, and blasts off of the ramp full speed. Then here comes my youngest in her Mustang Power Wheel running as fast as it will go up and over the ramp as well. She knows her dad is setting back, watching them from afar, and she gets braver and rides her bike over the ramp. Each of them take turns, egging the other one on.

I find myself grinning from ear to ear, and I can't help but think about the times my brother and I had when we were their ages - Starry, my oldest, at 10 years old, and Tori, my youngest, at 6 years old – and the times we had with our mini bikes and 4-wheelers. I also can't help but think of the bond between siblings, and how strong it is, whether it is the bond between brothers or the bond between sisters.