This morning when I saw this one of one hundred things on the list of the things my mom taught me a million times, I let out a big honking laugh and flashed back on a vivid memory. When I was around 16-ish, I started dating my children’s father, who was five years older than me, in college and owned a number of very fast vehicles, including a motorcycle. 
One might wonder why a mother (my dad died when I was 12) would let her 16-year-old date a 21-year-old. Simple. He was from a ranching family (which by our little west Texas standards meant “blue blood”), which was every mothers dream in 1964 – that her daughter might marry “well.” Although the fact that he lived on a huge beautiful ranch, drove a hot new car every year, and could afford to take me exotic places (Dallas, ha ha), didn’t escape my notice, but I was head-over-heels in love with him, so all that was superfluous to me.




