Born to be wild

Boy-child was one of those kids that I almost never had to say no to.  He’s a smart boy and he figured out that life was pretty negotiable if he stayed within the non-negotiable rules and limits.  It didn’t take him long from watching his older sister get in trouble over and over and over again and get grounded over and over and over again to realize that life could be pretty sweet if you just stayed within some really clear lines.  In fact, life was all about freedom and experiences and learning if you wanted it to be.  See – doctor child!

But, this time, I’m saying ‘no’.  Boy-child has decided that he wants a motorcycle.

I know, double standard.  How fair is it for me to have had a motorcycle and driven it in front of the kids when they were young (see – I was young and stupid back then).

But it’s different when it’s your kids!  They don’t call those things organ donor machines for no reason you know.

I drove a motorcycle for lots of reasons, some of which really certify me as a total idiot in my youth.

Boy-child wants to drive a motorcycle because he thinks it will make him a “chick-magnet”.

I kid you not.

“Chicks love motorcycles!” he tells me.  Really????  Are you kidding me child?  What happened to my previously smart doctor-child?

The girls will throw themselves at him.  They will faint in the streets they’ll be so overwhelmed by his cool, masculine persona.

He’s kind of picturing the whole James Dean image in his head but he’s also forgetting that in this day and age one wears a full face helmet and layers of leather before riding a bike.  Kind of messes with the image no?

“I just want to keep it in the driveway and wash it” he says.

I realize I don’t have much say in this matter since he’ll be 25 soon.  But, he’s still in school and that means I’m still partially footing the bill on things like insurance.  Chick-magnet or not, his motorcycle is going to have to wait until he’s fully paying his own way as an employed person because that’s one bill I’m not willing to pay.