Thanks Dad

In 1976 when I was twelve years old, Dad led Luke and I on a grand bicycle ride from the western edge of British Columbia, two thousand miles across Canada. That took about four weeks. Dad and I then headed South into the US while Luke continued Eastward in Canada by himself.

Incidentally, soon after my 13^th birthday as we rolled into Grand Forks, North Dakota to pick up the Vespa Mom sent us in a crate that we would also ship our bikes back home in and so we could continue our journey by Italian motorbike - a baby was born in Evreux, France, named Benedicte Ricordel, who would become my wife and the mother of our child, Elouan. I had no idea at the time, of course. I also did not know that Dad would pass away peacefully a few doors down the hall from where Elouan spent his first few days of life, eight months earlier.

These are pictures of our return from the cross-country bicycle trip in ‘76 (one of dad riding across the Thurman Street Bridge, one of the welcoming party at the other side). This trip was one of many, many amazing adventures Dad led us on that have shaped our lives and inspire us to this day.

-Carl Grimm