My heart on a hog

We had one of hubby's old college friends (named Lance) stay with us last night. He rode into town from Charleston on his Harley and all eyes were on him as he walked into our house with his helmet, pack, and biker boots. He'll be driving on to Ohio today – hopefully avoiding the predicted thunderstorms.
It was a pleasure having him visit. Hubby fed us BBQ chicken, fried okra and green beans for dinner last night, and we saved our last Founders Double Trouble Imperial IPA for Lance to enjoy. He hadn't had a sip of beer in two and a half months, I was informed. While in Charleston, Lance worked at a summer camp for kids/teens. No alcohol allowed obviously, even on the staff's one day off a week. He was more than grateful for an adult-themed meal that included the 9.40% ABV beverage.
Before Lance got back on the bike this morning and drifted off in the hot fog toward Ohio, I desperately wanted a photo of Caleb atop the shiny black machine.

Although Caleb very much wanted this to be his toy, hubby informed our 11-month old baby boy that this was a man's bike. I never knew hubby had so much respect for motorcycles. Understandably so. These things aren't cheap and this particular Harley was a beauty. So Caleb's placement on the bike was delicate and brief and done with love, thanks to a mindful Hubby.
Now when Caleb gets older and wants his own motorcycle I can tell him no, guilt-free. I can say, "Look at these photos, son – you've already had plenty of experience riding big boy bikes."
End of story. He'll never ask again, I'm sure.