Three Wheeler Races (or "How to Catch a Cold")

Saturday morning dawned gray, cold, and misty. And early. VERY early. Much earlier than this girl likes to get up on a Saturday morning. (I have mentioned it was early, right? Oh yeah, and cold.) Our alarms went off, I whimpered, then I whined, while Batman bounded from bed. Well, it seemed like he bounded, anyway. Grudgingly, I crawled from bed and shuffled into the littles' rooms to wake them up. With a stretch from each of them, they bounced out of their own beds and hurried to get dressed, chattering excitedly about the races to come. How these three could be so chipper was beyond me, especially since any other morning they would be just as bleary-eyed and cranky as I was. (It could have had something to do with the fact that we were called out in the middle of the night, so ambulance duty sucked about three and a half hours of my night from me, but I don't know....)

After layering on as many clothes as I could find and ensuring that the kids did the same, we were off to meet Batman's cousins one road over. All the three wheelers and snowmobiles were loaded in the trailer, so away we went - to the gas station down the road. Tanks of gas, a couple full throttles and bags of chips later, we were off again. This time ensuring that the trailer doors were secured. We made it to the next town over to meet the rest of our group, although this time we were following a "truck driver who knows where he's going." Right. Several wrong turns later, we jumped back into the lead, followed the advice of our handy dandy GPS, had to turn around once, then F.I.N.A.L.L.Y made it there... With an hour to spare. The boys unloaded their rides and got themselves registered and were off to play. They needed to see whose ride did what. Not that they didn't already know, but maybe Pennsylvania snow is different than New York's. Hey, you never know....

The races finally began, and we all watched as many snowmobiles raced and were either finished, or moved on to the next bracket. Then, it was THEIR turn.... With engines revving, the boys readied to race down the now muddy track. Batman won the first two races, giving his cousins their first strikes each. Then the cousins raced each other, so one was out... He'd been eliminated twice, so he was done. Batman and his same-named cousin were up against each other again. This time, Batman lost. Back around they went, with the end result being a tie. The crowd was in an uproar. Ties were NOT what they were there to see. By now, they were in a frenzy and ready to see someone get creamed! The announcer called Batman and cousin back around once more, and this time, the cousin won. Batman says that the cousin's two-stroke 250 something three wheeler is much nastier than his own four-stroke 350X. I just nod and pretend I get it when they start talking that language.

All the races were finished, and it was time to hand out trophies. We dutifully clapped and cheered for all the winners of the different snowmobile classes, and then, the three wheeler class was called. All of us were patting the cousin on the back and congratulating him... He had won fair and square. But then the announcer surprised us! He called both Mr. Smith and Mr. Guthrie up. There was hand shaking all around and the cousins beamed at each other, both holding their own trophy.



It was time to load up and head for home.  We'd been in the cold Pennsylvania outdoors for about seven hours.  Remember, it was COLD.  And wet.  But mostly cold.  The next day dawned to a sniffling Batman.  A couple days later, I started sniffling.  I'm pretty sure Batman thinks that the races were worth it, though.