I grew up with three brothers. It was inevitable that I would end up having more memories of playing with G.I. Joe and watching Transformers than anything having to do with Barbie. I do love to be a girl and dress up and sure, there is a pic or two of my younger brother playing Barbies with me, but that’s a post for another day. 🙂

I grew up climbing through the gutters, riding dirt bikes and a sweet little go-kart around my neighborhood with my brothers. Anything they or their friends could do, I’d prove that I could do it as well, if not better. Dirt bikes were, and still are, my favorite. If we were rich, we’d own one (or ten) and have a kick-ass trailer (that would double as our camper) to hold them all. I can still smell and hear the sound of the bikes and dune buggies from the dunes of Glamis, California. Those trips were amazing!

I had a flood of these memories pour over me as I drove home in my Jeep tonight. It was like this consuming passion of me needing some muddy off-road track for my Jeep or I needed to find someone with a dirt bike right away or I needed to find someone who owned a race car, with a five-point harness seatbelt, and own a race track so I could just zoom around it until the gas ran out. I just had this intense need for speed and/or off-roading.

The last time I was on a dirt bike was in Costa Rica in 2004. Sad, huh?! The Pastor’s son had some beat bike and I asked if I could ride it. It was the scariest ride of my life because, one.) I had no helmet and two.) the road was riddled with cantaloupe-sized rocks all over. It was a crazy ride but it did suffice for… well, 4 years. Well, it’s just not holding me over any longer.

As I sit in the cozy warmth of my home, I still have this thirst, this fierce craving and I don’t know what to do about it.

I need a dirt bike.