Sweet Shoppe Designs

Here I am on my 3 wheeler that Dad bought for me when I was about ten. He loves motorcycles-all kinds. He used to race them and was pretty good, and nowadays (2009) he fixes them up and rides them or sells them for fun money. So, as he loves them, he figured I would too. For awhile, we would ride around our house and on the old country roads and it was no big deal. Then, one day, I was riding on the back of his 3 wheeler and we were on this really bumpy trail with a bunch of roots, and all the sudden our bike went into the air and tipped up. I landed flat on my back on the ground, then Dad landed on me, and then the bike tipped up and started crashing down on us. Dad fought to kick it off, and it took a bit, but he did. I was so scared-bawling my head off. I remember it being really loud, and my back hurt pretty bad after that. Then, we were camping up at Browns Creek (Olympic Mountains, WA) and I took the bike up this big rock hill and then got scared, and about tipped it trying to come down. I got scared again, but instead of trying to come down, I cried and screamed midway up the hill. My mom got mad because dad refused to help me get down. He kept telling me I was fine, and I would figure out how to get down. I did, about a half hour later, but I never rode that thing again. Now, Chris just got his motorcycle license, and he is itching to buy a bike. I, of course, am totally against motorcycles unless they go 20 miles and hour or less, so I always say a big fat "NO"!