I took the KLR out today to get in a little saddle time. Bartlett is one of those rides that is brainless and mostly trafficless, perfect for just thinking. All went well until leaving the rest stop at the lake. I had just walked in to the restroom when a small striped motor home roared into the parking lot and pulled up next to my bike. The muffler was loud and the woman driving was shouting over the roar of the engine at the kids in the back.
The lime green vehicle was annoying enough but as the woman rushed for the restroom a tan Chihuahua and 4 boys about 11-13 years old piled out of every door, yelling obscenities at each other, pushing and tripping. “Mom” from inside the restroom tried to control the f____ing vocabulary but to little effect. My first reaction, though possibly unfairly stereotyping, was “trailer trash”.
Just at that second a fleeting sickness hit me in the gut. That feeling I used to get on Sunday night knowing that in the morning I would be returning to warfare, in the classroom. I momentarily remembered the phone calls concerning Johnny’s “inappropriate behavior” to mothers just like this one who would say to me, “Yeh, they’re out of control at home too.” But the butterflies dissipated when it all came back, I’m not the babysitter anymore!
While I was putting on my helmet and gloves she said to me, “I’ll bet you’re glad you’re alone.” I knew she didn’t mean that I had no friends riding with me.
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