The ride on the path was like walking through a museum. Never deviating from the trail, in awe at the sights. The trees balancing on the slope of the gigantic hills surrounding us like Moses parting the sea. The island is only 8 miles to bike, it seems shorter when biking with someone you love. 

My dad taught me how to skip rocks when I was younger. He taught me at lake Keesus, the lake I was raised on. When we saw an opening of water, we had a contest to see how many skips we can skip a rock.

While we were biking, we saw stacks of rocks. I remember I saw somewhere that people were upset about stacking rocks. They were so upset that they knocked down the stacks. My dad made a joke about them being rival gangs. We called them the Rock-Stackers and the Rock-Knockers. Later on the ride we decided to add another gang: the Rock-Skippers.

No matter how painful going up-hill was, hanging out with my dad made it better. It doesn’t matter about the scenery, it only matters about having time with my dad.

I love you dad, I can’t wait for our next bike ride.