Trick bikes are really dangerous AND teach you bad words

I've already talked about the trick bike with my brother. But I simply could not help myself to include this story. I know, I'm doubling up on material, but I think you will get a kick out of it.

In the small town that I grew up in there was an international boarding school that was, and still is, known for it's hockey program. We would have many young men return after high school in order to play in a team division that allowed for them to have another opportunity to be seen playing hockey. Many young men were discovered playing on this team and got scholarships and some were eventually drafted into the NHL. When I was young, they lived in mobile homes that were speckled around the town. I refused to step foot in one after I saw inside the foyer one day while delivering papers. Whoever thought that it was a good idea to put half a dozen 19 year old boys in one house obviously did not understand the kind of squalor that these young men can live in.

One of these houses was down the street from my parents' house. I think it was eventually burned to the ground, either on purpose or by accident, I am not sure. But that was probably the best for the trailer and for the town.

My sister wanted to take the trick bike out one day. And we thought it was a great idea. My brother got on the front, my sister was on the seat and in charge of the pedals, and I hopped on the back pegs. We went around the block, it was a little wobbly, my sister should not have been driving. I don't think she could see around my brother. Although 4 years apart, they were the same height at the time.

It was a warm day and the hockey players were likely driven outside by the smell of their warming garbage heap of a home, honestly, it is amazing that these young men didn't take the school to court for slum lording. They were all out sunning themselves on their deck.

And down the narrow sidewalk comes the three of us on the trick bike. Barely moving because of the weight, my poor sister's quads were probably on fire. We were jerking left and right, and then, because I was on the back and could see over my brother's shoulders I hopped off before it happened. The weight of my brother leaning on the handle bars and my sister's inability to see drove them down into the ditch and right into a telephone pole. I abandoned ship before the impact, but my siblings took the full force of their weight into the pole.

The young hockey players got prime viewing of this, and of course were hysterical with laughter. I slinked behind the bushes, my brother collected the bike, and my sister opened up on them. All of 12 years old and curses like a trucker were spilling out of her mouth. She was telling those young men where to go and how to get there, which only made them more hysterical, and made her swear more.

My brother quickly grabbed my sister by the elbow and lead her toward home. I remained quiet, I had never heard many of the words she used. Ironically, my sister grew up and married a man who returned to the school in order to get a hockey scholarship. They have a wonderful family now, and no trick bikes.

That's all.


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