3rd Post of the Day...Yeah, I'm bored

You have no idea just how much I miss these days....

For those of you wondering, these are Cushmans. I was fortunate enough to grow up in the Cushman Clubs of Texas and America. My grandparents joined the club when I was 3. They traveled with the clubs all the time, and when I was 6, they decided I needed to go with them. From that first trip, I was hooked. They couldn't even mention going out of town without me being right there. I have many many MANY wonderful, fun, hilarious, and precious memories from those trips around the country in the 5th wheel and then motorhomes and those wonderfully loud antique motorcycles. Somewhere I have the first scrapbook I ever made...one of my Cushman trips. It's pretty scary, but I would love to find it and re-do it in true Biddy fashion.

I have a scar on my left leg. A big scar. I smile everytime I see it because it reminds me of Cushman trips and Papa. You see, on one of our 165416565 trips, Papa was going to enter his blue Silver Eagle into the show scooter contest. This thing was AMAZINGLY beautiful. There's no telling how many thousands of dollars he spent restoring it. We're talking chrome EVERYTHING, custom paint job and saddlebags, and of course, he had to have the scooter painted onto the trailer (complete with real leather tassels). Anyway, Mimi and Aunt Kathleen spent HOURS cleaning that thing so it would be perfect for showing. If you've ever tried to polish anything chrome, you know what a pain in the ass it is. Well, Papa decided he wanted to ride it before he took it into the collosieum (they stayed on display for 4 days so he wasn't going to be able to ride it). He rode, and rode, and rode...in Marshall, Texas...in the dead heat of June. Then, he parked it right by the motorhome. I had no idea he had ridden it because I was off shopping with the ladies (and having a terrible lunch which is another really funny memory of mine)...We got back and I ran to the motorhome to get my helmet, and my leg brushed up against one of the chrome tailpipes of Papa's ride. At first I thought I had just scratched it. It didn't really hurt much so I didn't even bother to look at it. However, when it started throbbing, I looked down and had a puffy round blister about the size of a half dollar where I thought I had cut myself. Ouch. I didn't think that thing would EVER heal. Needless to say, Papa got in some serious doo doo when Mimi finally found him. Not only was he in serious trouble for getting that thing filthy after she had spent so much time cleaning it, but he was in MAJOR trouble because her baby had gotten burned. Hehe it's good to be the fav...

So yeah, at the time it was tragic (in my 8 year old eyes anyway). But now I look at that scar and just can't help but smile. Sometimes I get a little teary eyed...

I have another teeny scar on my hand thanks to papa and it too involves a cushman. he took me for a ride at their house one day (i was like 5), when I was still terrified of riding motorcycles of any sort. this was a "test run" to show me that there was nothing to be scared of. Welllllll Papa was also smoking on this ride, wasn't paying attention, reached his hand back to flick the ashes and the cig burned my hand. I of course started screaming, he realized what he had done, took me back to the house, got his butt chewed out (hehe) and I didn't get back on one for 2 more years.

Is it sad that I look back and laugh at these stories? I mean like, laugh my butt off...