Sandpoint Saturday

Sorry you didn't get your Sandpoint pics on Friday but I was busy coughing up a lung. 

Now here's where the Sandpoint story starts to get a wee bit messy. We had told the boys that if we moved to a rural area, of course they would be getting dirt bikes. I mean, come on. So here we are, on top of our mountain, and the bikes are delivered, and it's like Christmas four times over, and the boys are so excited they're peeing their pants, and they're riding all over the place, and the mountain sounds like the Texas Chainsaw Massacre. 

Well, we had a slight suspicion when only 3 out of a mountain full of neighbors came to welcome us when we moved in. But it wasn't until the Dirt Bike Incident as it has come to be known, that we found out for sure. Except for those 3 houses of genuinely nice people, all our neighbors were old farts who hated anyone moving up on THEIR mountain. And we had not only just done that, we had also broken the number one Unwritten Rule: if you insist on being here, DO NOT MAKE ANY NOISE. In other words, our old fart neighbors now hated our guts and didn't mind telling us so.

In an effort to patch things up I actually wrote out neighbor cards with our names and phone number on it, and after church the next day, we all marched around to every house and introduced ourselves to every single old fart. That's right, we painted smiles on our faces, knocked on their doors, lured them out of their dark holes into the daylight, and got into their faces and made them speak. Bless all my boys, they didn't even complain. It was comical that they were all so nice to us, though we did see a few spouses escape into other rooms and refuse to come out. Apparently the damage had been done. We had infiltrated their precious mountain, broke the Unwritten Rule, and would never belong. I let my dogs pee on their grass.

Aw, just wook at dat widdle Mousey. He onwy 8 yeaws owd.

Well, the timing was indeed off, and I guess we really didn't belong on that mountain. At least not at that time. But for the time we were there, the boys so enjoyed those bikes. They made a track in our back acre through all the trees. My favorite memory was when Davy launched himself off a large root and ended up stuck IN a tree - bike and all! Hahaha :) They found some great trail rides off the mountain too. The Mouse became quite an expert at a young age, and has continued to love riding dirt bikes ever since. 

I often wonder who those old farts are tormenting now? Just as we were moving, they were trying to get everyone to agree on installing semi-permanent speed bumps all the way up the mountain road. All the young careless people, you see, were driving much too fast. Miserable old cusses. Come to think of it, they would have made great speed bumps themselves........