I have three kids that I know of. Each one of them gave me a special gift for Father’s Day, and each one of them was bicycle-related.
The first gift I received back in October, when my daughter and her son gave me my grandbaby biker.
The second gift was Ridgway’s rail. Woodrow and I had left early this morning for the Bolsa Chica Ecological Preserve in Huntington Beach. We had birded the little boardwalk spanning the lagoon. He lingered back on the boardwalk while I went ahead onto the trail.
A few minutes later he came up. “I have a funny bird but I don’t know what it is,” he said.
“Oh, good,” I said. “Let’s go check it out and be ignorant together.”
It was an adult rail with two black fledglings stomping around in the marsh grass. “It’s a clapper rail,” I said, pointing to the clapper rail in my book.
“My book doesn’t have a clapper rail at all. It looks like Ridgway’s rail.”
“I’ve never heard of that,” I said, “and there’s no Ridgway’s rail in my book.”
Woodrow got on his phone. “Clapper and king rail have been split into five new species,” he said as he read me the long history of the bird’s taxonomy. “Let’s go get breakfast.”
On the way to the pancake house we saw a slew of bikers on PCH. I vaguely wanted to be riding with them, but not really. Not when my son had just seen our first ever Ridgway’s rail together.
My third Father’s Day gift was a bike overhaul. My eldest son is coming home from Austria for a month, so I had Boozy P. overhaul his bike. The chain is now sparkling as only Boozy P. can make a chain shine. I told Hans about it when he called to wish me a happy Father’s Day. “Your bike is ready to go,” I said.
“That’s awesome,” he said.
“And there’s a no-drop Donut Ride that Joann started so we can go be freddies and drop and get dropped and eat donuts at the end.”
“I can’t wait to go ride with you, Dad,” he said.