Our first day biking in Costa Rica made several characteristics immediately apparent regarding Tico drivers: they drive fast, they hug the (non-existent) shoulder regardless of what or who 
may be occupying the (non-existent) shoulder and they are friendly. At least I think they are friendly. A quick "beep, beep" accompanied every passing car, on-coming and headed our way, that I took to mean hola.
Thankfully the friendliness was enough to diminish the fear that came over us the first few times a heavily loaded sugar cane truck roared past us without the slightest movement across the mid-line of the road. Instinctively I would ride behind my youngest daughter and keep a foot or two outside of her rear tire in the hopes of providing her with a buffer against any passing traffic.
Fortunately the roads we traveled were not heavily trafficked, unfortunately, my parenting skills couldn’t process this information and so I continued to suggest/request/admonish my daughter to ride further to the right of the road. The friction between our tires and the road had nothing on the friction between my younger daughter and I biking together.
“Please ride closer to the grass sweetie, I don’t want you to get hit by a car.”
“I am, stop yelling at me.”
“You’re drifting to the left again”
“You’re further out than I am!”
“That’s because I want to protect you from any cars sweetheart. If a car comes from behind and doesn’t move out it would hit me and not you.”
“Well if you got hit by a car, I’d ride in front of one and get hit too.”
“What a nice sentiment,” I mused, “you’d want to be with me in the afterlife.”
“No, I wouldn’t want you to get your dying wish,” she responded.
Well, there’s a touching mother-daughter exchange to bring tears of joy to your eyes, or maybe not. We made an unspoken decision that I would ride with my older daughter and let my husband bike along with my youngest.
may be occupying the (non-existent) shoulder and they are friendly. At least I think they are friendly. A quick "beep, beep" accompanied every passing car, on-coming and headed our way, that I took to mean hola.Thankfully the friendliness was enough to diminish the fear that came over us the first few times a heavily loaded sugar cane truck roared past us without the slightest movement across the mid-line of the road. Instinctively I would ride behind my youngest daughter and keep a foot or two outside of her rear tire in the hopes of providing her with a buffer against any passing traffic.
Fortunately the roads we traveled were not heavily trafficked, unfortunately, my parenting skills couldn’t process this information and so I continued to suggest/request/admonish my daughter to ride further to the right of the road. The friction between our tires and the road had nothing on the friction between my younger daughter and I biking together.
“Please ride closer to the grass sweetie, I don’t want you to get hit by a car.”
“I am, stop yelling at me.”
“You’re drifting to the left again”
“You’re further out than I am!”
“That’s because I want to protect you from any cars sweetheart. If a car comes from behind and doesn’t move out it would hit me and not you.”
“Well if you got hit by a car, I’d ride in front of one and get hit too.”
“What a nice sentiment,” I mused, “you’d want to be with me in the afterlife.”
“No, I wouldn’t want you to get your dying wish,” she responded.
Well, there’s a touching mother-daughter exchange to bring tears of joy to your eyes, or maybe not. We made an unspoken decision that I would ride with my older daughter and let my husband bike along with my youngest.
2 comments :
I'm honored to have such a good reputation in your blog. Next time though I wouldn't mind being consulted first. Nice story anyway!
liana
No comment.
Post a Comment