 Big
Wheel
There was nothing more glorious than getting a brand new Big Wheel.
And nothing as inglorious as our mothers' mandates that we not ride in
the street with the neighborhood kids - that we were confined to the
dreaded and boring back yard. But it's not like we didn't have a plan
. . .
If you're unacquainted with the 'Freedom to Ride in the Street'
plan, its basic tenets follow: First, we did figure eights around the
patio furniture, as noisily as we could. Then, we moved out a couple
of chairs from inside the house and figure-eighted those, bumping into
them every third for fourth circle. We made obstacle courses with
potted plants, we ran over as many snails as we could and then swore
we didn't see them. We skimmed over our parents' feet "accidentally"
when they came outside to screech about not damaging the prized
geranium, and when they started preaching about how snails were living
creatures too. Yeah, right.
We trained the dog to run behind us during our obstacle course
regimens and bark all the way. We loaded up the bucket seat with our
stuffed animals. It was then about time to start knocking chairs and
potted plants over, telling mum after one of our best-feigned crashes
that all things considered, the open road would probably be much
safer. And worn out, she finally agreed. Now we were free to ride out
on the street, to be a part of the street pack! Hallelujah! Big
Wheeldom's heavenly gates had opened!
 The
Big Wheel was a sit-down, low-to-the ground three wheel vehicle for
kids - like a tricycle, but lower and nearly metal-less, and decorated
with a much better color scheme. The seat back was adjustable, so
that as a rider grew, he wouldn't grow out of the Big Wheel. The two
wheels at the rear were small, but in front was the so-called Big one.
There were pedals and handlebars that you could decorate with
ribbons or flying plastic. Most memorable of all, the Big Wheel made
that distinctive scraping noise on the cement or asphalt (if you were
riding on the street, that is - if you had, in other words, worked the
steps of the 'Freedom to Ride' plan and worked them well). Molded plastic was never this good.
Dare other members of the pack to go straight down a hill for a
harrowing stretch - turning or using the brakes forfeits the dare. Or
give your body a jolting it won't soon forget and pound down a length
of cement stairs - but in this stunt, it's the fallers-off who lose
the dare. Play "chicken" (the first one to change course is the
clucker) with fellow members of the pack, stage races and double
passenger races, tow each other, push each other off for added
launching speed and perfect your 180 degree skid-outs |
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