 Hello amigos, hola todos. Thank you so much for joining us for another Un Cuento Con. This time our special guest reader is Elizabeth Muñoz, who is one of our newest librarians here at the Long Beach Public Library, and she's working at the Mark Twain Library. So she's going to be reading us. My Papi has a motorcycle by Isabel Quintero, illustrated by Zeke Beña, and it's sure to be a great time, so come along. Hi everyone, my name's Elizabeth Muñoz, and I'm the new children's librarian at Mark Twain Library, and today we're going to be reading My Papi Has a Motorcycle by Isabel Quintero, illustrated by Zeke Beña. My Papi has a motorcycle. From him I've learned words like carbulator and carinho, drill, and dedication. When I hear his great truck pull into our driveway, I run outside with both of our helmets. My Papi the carpenter is covered in sawdust and smells like a hard day at work. His hands are rough from building homes every day, his job since he first arrived in this country. But even though he comes home tired, he always has time for me. When our city is winding down, he takes me for a ride. Today he's going to show me the new houses he's been working on. Papi is careful with my ponytail as he pulls my helmet tight. When he lifts me on to the smooth black seat, his hands don't feel rough. They don't feel tired. They feel like all the love he has trouble saying. Lista? Si. Papi revs the engine and the smell of gasoline hits me as he squeezes the accelerator. Vroom! Con cuidado, be careful. The motor rumbles and growls. Agarate! Hold on! And then we take off. The shiny blue metal of the motorcycle glows in the sun. The sun, the sun, the bright orange sun is on its way down, turning our sky blue and gold and purple. We become a spectacular celestial thing soaring on asphalt. A comet, the sawdust falling from Papi's hair and clothes becomes a tale following us. Papi zig-zags through the streets. We pass Abuelita's church and the tortilla la estrella and stop for stray cats crossing in front of us. Mommy thinks there's too many of them, but I think there's just not enough. We pass Joy's market where mommy buys my gummy bears. Mr. Garcia, our librarian, is walking out the door. He nods at us. We nod back. This is our way to greet each other. We wore past murals that tell our history of citrus grooves and immigrants who worked them and of all the famous road races that took place here on Grand Boulevard a hundred years ago. Now I know that we're stopping at Don Rubis Raspados, but we as we near the shop we see that it's empty and out of business. I can tell that Papi's disappointed. I imagine the smell of the sweet syrup Zonrubi used to flavor our shaved ice. It won't, I won't be the only one who misses him. As we ride on, I feel and hear everyone, everything we pass by. Each sound landing in my ears rebuilds the whole neighborhood inside me. No matter how far I go from this place or how much it changes, this city will always be with me. Miha! We cruise by Abuelito and Abuelita's old yellow house, the one with the lemon tree that grew from the seeds of the lemons Abuelito used to pick not far from here. Mami says we're gonna visit them tomorrow to cut nopales from their garden and eat herby al bondigas in Abuelita's kitchen, where the food always tastes better. Adios, mi reina! Adios! We turn the corner and then the dogs behind us behind the fences go wild. Woof, woof, woof, woof, woof, woof, woof! Frankie, the Lopez Labradoodle escapes from her yard and runs after us. Mercedes Lopez, the fastest runner in our class, races after her. They're right behind us. Then, just as fast, the dogs barking and Mercedes and Frankie become a soft hush in the distance. We ride towards the new homes replacing the last of the citrus grows. Trabajando duro muchachos? The painters, drywallers, and floor layers all greet us, but we can barely hear their words amidst the sound of hammers and air compressors. A little bit, not too much. Even in all that noise, my puppy's voice touches everything. Around the circle, this is my favorite part. On Grand Boulevard, we lean into the curve of the street. I make believe that we're in one of the races that took place here long ago. It's our last lap and we have to win. The crowd cheers us on. I feel puppy smile as I squeeze my arms tighter around him. Vamos, puppies! Faster, faster! We fly around the circle. There's the school where we practice soccer and the post office where Mr. Charlie takes our letters. And la panadería, where puppy buys conchas every Sunday morning. Vroom! Here it is, all of our beautiful city. My eyes try to catch everything, but the colors of the houses blend into one another. Red, blue, green, orange, and pink. We ride, ride, ride until the blue glow from the motorcycle begins to dim and our comet tail has left behind on the streets we've traveled. We head home and slowly the engine echoes us back onto our street and then our driveway, our finish line. Mommy and little brother hear the motorcycle and run out to greet us. Mommy waves us in just like a referee. Pappy and I can't stop laughing. We had a good ride. Through our laughter, I hear a familiar sound. Raspados! I think about my city and all the changes it's been through and all the changes that will come. Chicle y fresa, por favor! But I know that here in our little house, there are things that will always stay the same. Mañana, we fly again. Thank you. Wow, what a cool story, no? It kind of makes you think about all of the people and the gente that are in your neighborhood that kind of, you know, contribute a little something to who you are and who the town is, you know? People like the panadero or the raspado guy or the bibliotecario, the librarian, your grandparents if you're lucky enough to have them living in the same town as you, not many of us are. But yeah, it's an awesome story. I recommend it. If you like to check it out, we have it here at the Long Beach Public Library. We also have the Spanish version, mi papi tiene una moto. It's the same story just in español, you know? So thank you so much for joining us today. If you want to check out more of our Vida La Vina programming, look on our website lbpl.org or stop in any of our locations and pick up one of the Vida La Vina program calendars. Okay, adiós y nos vemos pronto.