When I was very young, we lived in Rockville Maryland, USA. I was probably 5 years old, and there was a younger guy down the street, probably 3 or 4. Much smaller than me.
I had a little red wagon like this:
I asked my neighbor friend if he’d like to go for a ride down the hill in the wagon. He said he wasn’t allowed in the street. I said something like “AHhhhhHHh! That’s a loada hooie”
Next thing ya know, we’re blasting down the hill in the wagon, really fast, and I heard a I noise. I turned my head and it was his Mom, running down the sidewalk, yelling. My first thought was: “That’s the first time I’ve ever seen a grown up running”. My second thought was: : “Grownups look funny when they run”.
My friends Mom was very angry. She contacted my Mom, had a discussion, and my Mom sent me home. I knew I was in big trouble when my Mom got home from my friends house, but I figured my Mom would cool off pretty fast if she came home and I was dead. So, I laid on the stairs, with my face in the corner of the steps and was playing dead when she got home. She whacked me on my butt and I jumped a mile high, I certainly didn’t expect that! I was hoping for some sympathy (being dead and all) and a way out of trouble.
I don’t remember what my punishment was, but I still remember turning my head on that wagon, and seeing my friends Mom running after us.
For the record, I don’t think we were in any danger, riding the wagon down that hill, mostly the trouble was just breaking my friends Moms rule….
I would love it if someone reads this and says, “Hey! That was me!” We talk, and I find out it really was them. I’d like to apologize to his Mom for freaking her out.
And tell her she looked really funny running down that hill!
My brother and I went zooming down Cinder Hill on our homemade go-cart. We heard a car behind us, my brother held the rope to steer and turned it sharply. We landed in the ditch, the go-cart upside down with my brother under it and me all scraped up on my right side. Ouch.
That was the last time we went for a breath-taking ride down Cinder Hill.
I was a kid growing up in the 50’s trust me..we did more scary things than that by breakfast..