It’s way too soon to know, and I don’t mean to presume anything about his future.
Because, for one thing, I’m only the grandfather. I am not the parent. I get to play with the boy, sugar him up and send him home.
And even Katy and Wyatt, Tristan’s parents, can’t determine for Mr. T what he will like or what he will do. Eventually, like all humans, Mr. T will devise his own path.
Maybe on two wheels?
Hard to say. Yet, when he came over for a visit Saturday, this busy, talking post-toddler little boy, not yet to his second year, mainly said one thing.
We have a bike trailer attached to Audrey’s bike—it’s a Schwinn trailer and she has a Schwinn bike and it seems to fit better than on my bike. When Mr. T comes over, he is anxious to have his helmet put on, so he can be strapped in and enjoy the world going by as I power this under-sized (for me) lady's bicycle with my legs.
Tristan’s love of biking, or at least being towed behind a bike, is a bit of a surprise, because sitting in the trailer tends to knock the helmet on his head slightly forward, so he’s riding around back there with a big plastic cap pulled low on his face, and I’m not sure he can see a darn thing.
Maybe he doesn’t need to see much. Maybe it’s the feel of motion, the sounds of the birds, the movement of air—beyond sight, biking is still an appealing sensuous experience, which is one reason I like it so much even as I always have my eyes wide open.
Well, Mr. T. We’ll have to wait and see. Will you one day be a new CR Biker?
Somehow, that would be nice. Maybe in 2025, Jon and I will repeat RAGBRAI for oh, the 10th time or so. Maybe.
And maybe we’ll have Mr. T along, too.
Big dreams. Even if that fantasy doesn’t come to pass, it will still be fun someday sooner for me and Mr. T to bike the byways of Cedar Rapids. Together.