Happy Birthday at the Dunes

Stu turned 16 this week, as we have posted before. Since he wasn't here for his birthday, we promised him a trip to the dunes. We invited some friends, Stu invited some friends, and we all took off as soon as we could get Stu home and ready from Camp Helaman.

It was important to Stu that I go. Obviously. Every time he has gone to do his manly thing, I have had to be the other parent with the other kids. Someone had to work, there was a karate tournament, something this or someone that. I have missed going many times. So going this time was not optional. After all, it was his 16th birthday.

I got to see, in person, my incredibly talented son (and his equally incredible dad) do some very manly riding. For me, this included watching sand spraying everywhere from donuts, inhaling possibly life-threatening amounts of burned methanol (race fuel for the bikes), holding my breath while they raced at illegal-on-the-street speeds up a very steep mountain, and in Stu's case, jump higher and farther that it ever looked in the pictures. He even let go of the bike in mid-air to point and grin at his dad. (Gasp!) He also--patiently--taught me how to ride the Bombardier, which requires manual shifting. Here's the conversation:

Stu: It's just like driving a stick, only your hand does the clutch, and your foot does the shifting.
Me: Ok, I can handle that.
Stu: All the way down is first gear, then 4 gears going up.
Me: Ok, so this is clutch (holding the left hand lever). And this is the gas.
Stu: Uh, no Mom. That's the brake. THIS is the gas.
Me: Oh, yeah. (he he) I think I got it.

Then I proceeded to kill it a few times just so he could laugh and instruct me again on the basics of shifting. And he invited me to go for a ride with him on the back of his race bike up Sand Mountain.

That's where I had to draw the line.

Happy Birthday Stu!