I was on the phone with my sister yesterday, trying to plan a time when I could drive the two hours over to her city to join her family and my grandfather for some family hang time. She recently had her second child, and my grandfather is visiting her so that he can eyeball the newborn, such as you do.
“Why don’t you come over on Tuesday, spend the night, then you can drive on Wednesday?” she was saying.
“Yes, that way I can ride Sunday morning and Monday night.”
I am not telepathic and my phone does not, as far as I know, transmit displeasure, but I instantly knew that this remark had not gone over entirely well even before I heard what she said next.
“It’s always about riding isn’t it?” she sighed.
There are two problems here. One, Grandpa lives down in the nether regions of his state which resemble what would be its reproductive area if it were livestock and not a swath of land, and two, he’s not allowed to drive the car anymore due to a fairly serious case of “old”. My sister went down to get him, and now its my turn to drive him back home again, a round trip of 730 miles.
The problem for me is that track racing takes place on Tuesday and Wednesday nights, exactly when I’m supposed to be visiting and then driving Grandpa home. It’s possible that I could make it back in time for Wednesday night though, I think. Right?
Well, let’s see. Google says the trip should take twelve hours eighteen minutes, and I’ll need an extra hour or two for eating and stopping for gas, so let’s call it fourteen hours all told. Add one hour for the time change between the Central timezone in which Grandpa and the baby reside, and we’ve got a nice round fifteen hours between getting in the car and getting on the bike.
I need to be riding at seven PM at the latest in order to get warmed up. So, I’d have to shove Grandpa out of bed at… 4am. 3am to be safe.
Dang, when I read it written down like that it seems bad.
I think I’m just going to have to take a step back, survey the situation calmly, and then twitch occasionally because I don’t get a chance to crush my enemies and break their hearts. The bright side is that I get to spend some time with most of my family members, not to mention some quality time with just me and Grandpa in the car. I already know what to talk to him about: rainfall patterns at his home and black coffee.
All kidding aside, I am glad to hang out with my family’s eldest man and one of my chief role models. Respect for one’s elders is a mark of character, I fully acknowledge, and character is the mark of a man.
Besides, regionals are this weekend and I’ll definitely be in town for that.