You Call This a Choice?

Yesterday my sixteen year old son asked me a hypothetical question: "Which would you rather I had, a motorcycle or a gun?" Here was my first response:

Me: "Is the gun locked up?"

Son: "What do you mean locked up?"

Me: "Is it in a lock box, something that only you can unlock?"

Son: "No mom. I'd be carrying it."

Me: "It's not loaded, right?"

Son: "Mom, what good would that do? Of course it would be loaded."

I share this with you because I can't believe that I'm trying so hard to choose the gun option. Until this conversation, I didn't realize how really nervous I am about him getting a motorcycle.
Let me explain. I used to ride motorcycles. Not by myself, just as a passenger, but still I wasn't afraid them.

Maybe it's the fact that he's just sixteen and he doesn't even have his driver's license.(He's getting it on Friday!)
Maybe it's that I know of a guy who lost both his legs and an arm in a motorcycle accident just last year.
Or maybe it's genetic. My mom hated motorcyles.

I don't know. but I do know that I'm not too happy about the gun option either. Good thing it was a hypothetical question...