When I was ten, I used some rope and a piece of lumber from the garage to turn my BMX bike into a super glider. With a strapped crosswise to the frame of my bike, the plan was to bike to the top of a nearby hill and, pedaling as fast as I could, achieve flight, the dream of every pre-teen boy, as I floated gracefully above the rooftops.
Not understanding even the most basic aspects of aerodynamics, I felt pretty bad when all the adults laughed me out of business before I’d even tried… probably a good idea in the era before mandatory helmet laws.
The worst that the Kid attempts is attempting out-ride her father on our many neighbourhood cycling jaunts. It’s still early days, I suppose, but a few choice falls lately have knocked her down a peg or two. And I think she’s probably a bit smarter than her old man ever was, anyhow.
I’ve had a waterlogged brain as of late. Both the kid and I, though separately, used to do a lot more swimming. She was in a club. I just love the water. Recently, due largely to the length and uncooperative nature of winter … spring … the weather this year, I’ve taken back to the pool for some cross-training.
Or as the Kid calls it: “dad … I’ll swim some with you … until I get bored and need a fun break!”
The other reason swimming is getting into my brain, sitting in the crook of my ear canal making little squootching noises so that no matter what way you turn your head, rocking your neck, twisting and contorting to try and get it to drain but it never wants to drizzle out and … I digress.
As this comic drops we’ll actually be at the pool stating another season of swim club. I’ll be fully dressed, probably using my phone to post this very comic strip to instagram and facebook — hint hint, nudge nudge — but the kid will be doing the laps.