The other day I was standing in the garage when a little girl came barreling down the sidewalk. Her pink bike was trailing streamers off the handle bars and she was standing bent over locked in full Lance Armstrong mode. She was traveling so fast I barely caught a glimpse of her and her blond locks flying free in the wind. I turned back around to whatever it was I was doing and a second later I hear a shrill whiny voice screaming "Ashley, come back. We have to wait for my Mom! Ashley, Ashley, Ashley!" There stood a little girl who clearly didn't understand that Ashley either was too far away to hear, or more likely didn't give a flying fuck whether she was with little Miss Prissy Pants' Mom or not. She had a hill to fly down and some over-regulated sheep girl and her Overlord keeper weren't getting in Ashley's way. I felt a moment of what it was like to be a child and hoped the little girl carried that rebellious, thrill-seeking side with her the rest of her life. I also hoped she didn't get hit at the intersection of the next street.
