Wyatt loves trains and bikes. He has a bike and knows to wear a helmet. And he always does.
Once a week I strap him in his car seat and haul him from Boonsboro to Shepherdstown and then back again in the evening. The route takes us along a long stretch of train tracks.
He peers out the window hoping for a train to pass. On this day there is none. But he keeps looking while musing on things not known by the driver.
“Grandy, do you know bikes can go on train tracks?
No, I didn’t know that.
“Well, they can. You put on special side wheels that fit on the rails and just pedal.
Oh, yes, right. I have heard of that. I didn’t know that’s what you meant.
“I want to ride my bike on the rails someday.”
That sounds scary to me. What if a train comes?
“I’ll have my helmet on, silly.”
Of course, he would. How could I be so silly?
I sometimes forget how smart he is and how much we all need that helmet for the slow train coming our way.