🛞 Road Rash and the Joyride Ahead
A reflection on scraped knees, summer freedom, and a friend’s beautiful new book.
The bent front wheel of my brother’s bike wobbled as he slowly rode up the driveway. My mother and grandmother were on the patio, sipping iced tea from plastic tumblers, but both jumped up when Harvey dropped his bike onto the gravel and limped over.
“What happened, honey?” asked my mother. She gingerly touched his elbows and knees; they were red and raw, his jeans ripped and his shirt torn.
“He wiped out rounding a corner at Henlopen Acres,” said my cousin Bobby, pulling up on his own bike. “We were just riding around when Harvey skidded out.” He dismounted and leaned his bike against a tree. “We pulled out most of the stones and dirt,” he added.
“I see,” said my mother. She turned to where I sat, playing with a Barbie doll.
“Linda, go get the first-aid kit,” she said, leading my brother to a lawn chair. He plopped down into it with a grimace.
“I’ll get ice,” said my grandmother, disappearing into the kitchen as Bobby wheeled my brother’s mangled bike into the garage. I ran inside and returned with the white plastic first aid kit from the bathroom shelf.
For the next hour, my mother picked tiny bits of gravel from my brother’s skin, then applied iodine and bandages with a steady hand.
While it didn’t happen often, my brother and I—and a passel of cousins who lived up the street—occasionally endured bumps, bruises, and road rash from our wonderful biking adventures in our little summer beach town. It was a small price to pay for the freedom of early morning rides on the boardwalk to catch the sunrise, afternoons balancing fishing rods on our handlebars, or rainy days racing through puddles on the unpaved road.
Every road has bumps
.
A Book for the Next Stretch of Road
Which brings me to the road my friend Linda Hanstra has written about in her beautiful, heartfelt new book, Empty Nest Joyride: Hope, Love, and Purpose on the Road to Contentment. I’ve been reading an advance copy and found myself both encouraged and seen.
In it, Linda uses the sport of biking as a rich, extended metaphor—paralleling the joys and jolts of raising an active family through the years, then rounding the bend into a quieter, nest-emptied season. With faith, humor, and a steady cadence, she invites readers to join her and her husband, Tom, as they rediscover each other on two wheels.
Fueled by trust in God and the soundtrack of favorite songs, Linda’s joyride takes us down Michigan backroads, through memory, mishap, and renewal—reminding us that even scraped knees and sudden turns can lead somewhere good.
Where Her Story Meets Mine
Even though I’m not an empty nester in the traditional sense—my parenting continues in deep and meaningful ways as I walk alongside my autistic adult son—and even though I’m traveling this road as a widow, Linda’s reflections still spoke to me.
Because Empty Nest Joyride isn’t just about children growing up or marriages shifting—it’s about holding joy and change together. About trusting God on uncertain roads. About the way life continues to invite us to rediscover purpose, even when the terrain isn’t what we expected.
And that’s a message for all of us.
💬 If you’re navigating an emptying nest, or just wondering what’s next on the road of life, I think you’ll find a companion in this book.
🛞 Empty Nest Joyride releases soon—keep an eye out. You’ll be glad you did.
🌼Thanks for riding along with me today on Quirky. Because we’re all a little different. Let me know what stage of life you’re pedaling through!