I'm not altogether sure.
Fuzzy decided quite some while ago he wanted to feel the wind in his hair. A more challenging prospect than you might think since he is shiny on top.
Long ago he was into motorcycles. Having lived in the country and learned to ride in a field, he didn't struggle with the open road until he was old enough to drive (he did the motorcycle type thing when he was about 12).
He decided a few weeks ago he was going to be into them again.
It was the last thing I wanted for him (bad history and all that rot).
I struck a deal with the Universe, if he could find training and a bike for price under a set amount of my choosing, I wouldn't be horrible about it.
Dag nab if it didn't happen. He was the top of his class in safety school. He found a bike (and helmet) under the specified limit. And he bought the thing.
The real gift isn't the loud bit of mid-life crisis in my drive way.
The real gift is going to be MY silence about it. I'll be the one with my nose in a book and my cell phone ready to dial emergency services if things go sideways.
Fingers crossed and things will work out fine.
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