I was sad that I'd be leaving the farm that morning with my maternal grandparents. We weren't gonna drive straight home that day. We'd stop by the farm in Nebraska for another day or two before arriving back home in Colorado. In a way, I was excited to return to Nebraska. Jeremy, and my grandma's niece's husband, Nick, promised to take me shooting for several hours in the afternoon if we got there in time. I wanted to spend some time with Jeremy and Nick, and prove my shooting skills to them. 

At the same time, I still didn't feel like I'd spent enough time on the farm. In fact, I never feel like I've spent enough time on the farm every time I've had to leave. If I left for Nebraska Friday morning, I wouldn't be able to watch over the calf more, and I'd miss Troy's autocross race, which he invited me to attend if I stayed.

Every year for several years, Troy and/or Wade Jr have entered into the county autocross race, and won nearly every single time. Troy and his buddies always turn a shitty little sports car into something that looks like the General Lee, complete with the big 01 on either side of the car, and a giant confederate flag spray painted on the roof. If The Dukes of Hazzard was set in southeastern Minnesota, it would basically be a documentary of Troy's life. That man has quite the wild side and need for speed! So do the rest of the Nibbe's, including myself.

To be honest, my driving habits seem to reflect my dad's more than they do my mom's. I'm not a speeder, but I do like to put the hammer down to make it up to speed before everyone else!

As bummed out as I was for missing out on seeing my cousins destroy cars for fun, I knew that I'd have many more opportunities to see them race. But going shooting with Jeremy and Nick was a rare treat that we'd been planning for months. I didn't want to ditch something so special to attend something I could attend every other year if I wanted to. 

Before the sun was up that misty Friday morning, I was up packing my bags, getting dressed, and breathing medications into my airways while grandma made us a hefty breakfast. After breakfast, I fed the calf again. He was groggy but alert, and for the first time, I didn't have to force the bottle into his mouth. He drank his first morning pint down eagerly, and even tried to bump the bottle in my hand to get the milk to flow faster out of the bottle. Calves do that to their mothers' udders to get more milk to flow into the teats when they're eating. Unfortunately, it doesn't work the same way with the bottle. 

I made a mental note to let grandma know the little guy would need another pint that moment. He was very hungry, and needed that extra nutrition from another pint of milk. 

Shortly after that, my grandparents arrived to load up the dirtbike. They visited with grandma Shirley while they lifted the bike on the rack and tied it down. I packed my bags into the car, said goodbye to the calves one last time, promised grandma Shirley I'd be back on the farm soon, and headed westbound for Nebraska before the morning mist burned off.