I think of the land just a few minutes’ drive from my childhood home as our family’s own Walden Woods. Except on days it plays host to shooting matches, it is as serene as the scene that inspired Thoreau. At dawn and dusk, deer and turkey emerge from the woods to feed in the meadow, and an occasional armadillo ambles up to the building. I could spend an entire weekend there just walking the trails, admiring the undisturbed forest. A patch of large trees with little undergrowth sits next to a creek to form what we affectionately call “city park,” despite a complete lack of anything man-made.

The afternoon before Easter Sunday, however, we were there for motorized fun.

(click any pic to enlarge)

My nephew has a gas-powered four-wheeler with an adjustable governor on the throttle. My brother cranked it down so that Benjamin could get to know the controls without reaching frightening speeds. Frightening, that is, for me and his mother. Yes, my brother and I used to fly through the air with the greatest of ease on our motorcyles and our (gasp!) three-wheeler. The risk factor is a little more upfront when first placing ones brood upon such a roaring metallic beast.

After a brief, hands-on how-to, my brother drove our dad’s four-wheeler while his wife sat behind encouraging Benjamin to follow them. He did so with ease while Shannon and I watched them light out across the field. They reached the perimeter and skirted the woods around the meadow.

“Hey, you two could take the golf cart out and follow, if you want,” my mom said.

So, Shannon and I took off in our silent, horseless carriage to watch Benjamin’s progress. After he turned the four-wheeler back over to his cousin and joined the two riding the adult four-wheeler, our little train toured the trails through the woods. I was amazed at how well the golf cart handled the steeper sections, and the creek crossing.

It occurs to me now that I learned how to ride a bicycle without training wheels long before I was put behind the handlebars of a motorized vehicle. This may have been due to the times more than anything else. Back when I was learning such things, there were no four-wheelers, and certainly no three-wheelers for children, so a two-wheeled motorcycle was our only fueled option. We learned balance and control on a bicycle before moving up to something without pedals.

Addendum: Benjamin absolutely loved driving the four-wheeler, and asked more than once if he could take another ride.

That night the boys, the ladies, and Dad dyed Easter eggs, and the next day we enjoyed a great visit with family. Despite its crazy start, it was a fine Easter weekend.

(All but the top and bottom photos are by my lovely wife.)