Red and the Wolf
My boots kick up tiny dust plumes on the gravel drive as I dismount my Honda C B500X and pull it up onto its stand beside the barn at my grandparents' farm. I like my 500X. It's not as much fun as my 450R motocross racer in the barn, but it's nimble and it's street legal so I can ride it other places besides just the dirt track on race days.
And l ike my 450R, the 500X also comes in my favorite color.
“Hello Red,” Grandma signs as she exits the house and walks toward me. I smile as I unzip my red and white mesh racing jacket .
“Hello Grandmother,” I sign in return. “ W hat big eyes you have.”
Grandma throws her head back in a silent laugh and signs, “All the better to see you with, my dear.”
Our little greeting ritual has been going on this way since as long as I can
