Learning to Fly

A couple of days ago I was lucky enough to see a biker teaching his son to ride. I was driving down Albert Street in heavy traffic when a man in full leather approached in the opposite direction on his hog. As he took the bend he looked over his shoulder and started waving someone through to his left, whereupon a child on a dirt bike popped into view, in a singlet and board shorts, barefoot. Tucked safely in dad's slipstream, they navigated a double lane right turn together and disappeared from view all too quickly over the crest. 
And to think, if I'd only waited five more minutes to go to Northland(s), I would have missed it all.

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