Two or three years ago, my eldest son and longest arrow began to obsess on getting a motorcyle. It seemed to his mother and me a very bad idea.
Then, in a crystalline moment of letting go, of grace, of letting life happen, it occured to me that there was a better way than resisting the river’s flow. Why not join him and make it a male-bonding hobby?
Thus did I begin to obsess on getting a motorcyle. (more…)
Canter Bridge 