GRAMPY

I can remember so clearly my first ride on a tractor. It was in the middle of summer in Pennsylvania behind my grandparent's house. My grandfather sat me up on that yellow seat and told me to hold on. He climbed up behind me and we were off. We were traveling at the speed of a turtle, yet it felt like the speed of light to me. Riding on that tractor has become a tradition. This summer I drove the tractor, and you know what? I still got the same thrill I had the first time. Some things never change. Some things never loose their charm. Some things just make you smile simply because it is a memory.


If anyone asks me what some of my favorite recollections are, most of them will include my grandfather.  We have always called him Grampy.  Much to his dislike, sometimes Gramps. He seems the type that sits at home and does what older people do: read, sleep, sleep some more. And don't get me wrong, he sure does all those things, but he also owns a motorcycle, convertible, and speed boat. For a 68 year old man, I'd say that's pretty awesome. When my family goes out to visit my grandparents during the summer, Grampy always gets me up early to take a cruise on the bike. He makes it very clear to me that it is not just called a motorcycle, it's THE " blue Harley".  I am forced to wear jeans to be safe because the hot pipes might scald my skin. He wears shorts. We ride for hours through cornfields and on dirt paths. We pass the little creek where I used to tube down when I was younger. We rumble by the old, red school house that has been standing for as long as he's lived. As we pass certain landmarks of the past that we have shared, he tries yelling something to me. I laugh back even though I have no idea what he just said. If you ask me what it is that I look forward to each and every year, it won't be Christmas and it won't be summer. It will be the one Saturday that I slip on my old jeans and go for a ride with my Grampy on the Blue Harley.

Now, Grampy is certainly not the easiest human to get along with and he probably seems a little odd when he limps up the stairs, but he is one of those books that you just can't read by its cover.  That limp he has came from a plane crash he and my mom were in when she was 8. He might be hard and overbearing, but he had a younger brother run over by a car when he was only 17. Grampy has had plenty of heartache that has made me respect him. I just hope one day that I  can truly tell him how much I care for him. But until that day comes, I'm going to keep looking for memories in everything we do together and who knows, maybe I will even find  one that is more thrilling than that first tractor ride.