When he was 9, after lots and lots of pleading Tyler got his first dirt bike for his birthday. He was overwhelmed and beyond grateful. He fell in love with the sport. However, the poor dirt bike loving child was born into a rodeo family, and it is quite difficult to pursue other summer sports. Needless to say, he is all grown up now...just a couple months, and he will be 18 (sheesh). He is old enough to drive himself to the track and convinced his father and I to let him race this past Sunday.
I spent many days praying (pleading) with God to not let my baby get hurt (or worse) on that track. Just a month or so ago, he returned from a day of practice, missing all the skin off his hip and right forearm, and sporting a very bruised knee and ribs. Let's face it, it's a dangerous sport. However, many have brought it to my attention that, "So is rodeo."
Hubby and I, Nana and Papa, Charmaine and Mitchell, Uncle Bobby, and all the younger siblings showed bright and early Sunday morning at the "No Limit" Aztec motocross race to show our support for our boy. This mama was caught a little off guard when her son went-a-jumping through the air on his machine. We don't have jumps here at the house, so I had no idea what he could do. (Sigh). He has never been the kind to brag, demand recognition or flash his talent, so we really had no idea how far he had come with his skills. He did really, really well and we were so proud of him. I have a feeling that was not the last race we will attend. And thanks to God...no injuries...