I like to say I have the milkman's blue eyes.
Added 2019-06-02 21:58:14 +0000 UTCIn truth, both of my parents have blue eyes.
My photo on the left is a cropped pic from Looking Glass Studio, makeup and hair by LaDonna Stein. My dad is on the right, handsome on a motorcycle. I found the wrinkled original print and made copies some years ago.
Voting is open for Miss Motoblot. Let's see if I can make the cut to parade around as a pin-up in Chicago for a hot summer day.
My dad was involved in a horrible motorcycle accident when he was young. I think he was 19 when it happened. His nephew (around the same age-- large family always busy breeding) got a new motorcycle and wanted my dad to hop on the back and join him for a joy ride. The story is that my dad didn't want to go but my grandmother insisted. My dad went under a semi truck, lost all his teeth and had his jaw wired for a while. His nephew was fine. My dad's work false teeth forever.
My older brother had a motorcycle and we'd zip around the property. My grandmother's house was at one end, my parents' home at the other. She would come out and scream at him for driving so fast and I should never get on the back of a motorcycle. Of course, she's the one who made my dad unwillingly be a passenger. I was willing.
In fact, my older brother and I went tobogganing when I was a wee babe-- maybe three years of age. I'm told we hit a tree and he got bloodied up but I was fine. (He's seven years older than me. I like to think he was protecting me.)
Over the years that my dad had a motorcycle shop, I'd seen the results of many bike accidents. Broken legs, burned hands, cuts, scrapes and bruises. It was gruesome. You can't control everything, but I think motorcycle safety was lacking in many cases.
Anyway, there's a little story for you.
