THE SUMMER OF 1965
Stan, is the oldest of us four kids. I came along just fifteen short months later, and though I was second in the birthing order. I was the CEO of my three brothers. { we laugh about it now days, but they used to salute me and say “yes Sir, Sargent General Sir”. } We had to keep the house and rooms as clean as possible to avoid upsetting our mom, and since they were boys, and tended to play and not worry about things like that. I acted like I was the resident police office. Always giving orders and telling them what we needed to get done before mom got home.
When Stan and I were about 5 and 6, we were playing in the back of dad’s old garage where things had accumulated through the years. Old swing sets, old planters and plow parts. One summer afternoon while playing we stumbled onto a couple of “MORE RUSTY THAN RED tricycles.
One of them was in decent shape, with one back tire bend and unable to roll. The other tricycle had a crooked handlebar, and front tire was folded in half. Given country children and the way we race from one idea to another, I am sure it got left in a place where it didn’t belong and was backed over. We mentioned them to Dad, and at that time we didn’t have any kind of bikes.
Our Dad was born right on the tail end of the Great Depression, he never threw anything away. His theory was we might need it someday. He was usually right more often than not, and he was repurposing all sorts of things before Pinterest…. and before it was cool.
We told Dad the tricycles and ask if he could fix the broken one so Stan and I could take turns riding it. My big brother was in total agreement with this idea at first.
Dad said he would see what he could do when he got a minute, and he sent us off to play. Shortly after lunch he hollered our names and we came running up from the creek where we played all the time jumping logs, catching big green bullfrogs. Typical kids stuff.
As we ran around the corner of the large two-story white farmhouse we could see the 2 tricycles on the horizon by the back door.
I thought our Dad was a genius.! He had cut the front tire off the mangled tricycle, pressed the frame together in front of the seat of the second tricycle, drilled a hole in the it, and then connected the front half of that tricycle to the back half of the good tricycle.
We were so excited………well wait a minute…. I should say I was excited. Because the look on Stan’s face was anything but happy. He looked up at our Dad with a look of disbelief, but when he cut his eyes in my directions…..well, I can still see the glare in my memory. Lol
While Stan was generally in a pretty complacent mood. We build tree forts together, play hide and seek all over the farm, once we even pull a Campbell soup can lid from the burned-up garbage and cut our thumbs to be blood bothers. The latest idea he came up with after watching a western show. {looking back that wasn’t one of our brighter ideas.}
Dad was proud of his invention, and he lightly said “Stan, you hop on the front seat, and Sherry will be in the back.” Stan didn’t move. I of course jumped right on the back half of this new tricycle. I couldn’t wait to ride together all around the farm.
Dad coaxed my brother again. “Come on Stan, get up, otherwise the bike with life up. Sherry is going to hold on to your shoulders because she doesn’t have any handlebars. Come on, get on.” He finished still with an encouraging tone. She has to hold on to your shoulders because her part of tricycle doesn’t have handlebars now, but this is going to fun isn’t it.” It wasn’t intended to be a question. Dad was sure this was going to be the greatest invention of our young years.
That look on my brother’s face was still there. And suddenly I realized, Stan was not on board with this idea. He was not a fan of this new two-seated tricycle contraption that our Dad created but he climbed onto the front tricycle and began peddling through the hot summer dirt and sand all around the farm.
This was the life. I loved it. I was enjoying the free ride. No exertion on my part at all. Much to my surprise Stan was peddling fast and hard, and I was clueless as to what was fueling him on. He couldn’t wait to get out of our Dads sight so he could ceremoniously jump off the front of that tricycle built for two and when he bailed the front end came up off the ground and landed me flat on my backside.
Our family has laughed a lot about that memory over the years and our Dads Rural ingenuity.
Recently, it hit me. All of our 12 beautiful grandchildren have outgrown tricycles. There must be 12 or 15 2-wheel bikes reused, regifted, in the shed and on any given weekend when they’re all here for a visit, this circular farm drive looks like a NASCAR race for bikes. The teens ride fast and stop quickly showing the younger ones how to ” break and slide or pop some wheelies”. You know, the safe stuff. Not only do they take blocks and boards and make ramps so they can get up speed and make a cool jump or two. This Omie, (German for Grandma) has helped them all on more than one occasion to build said ramps. LOL
Yesterday. I had an idea. My Dads ingenuity rubbed off.
I decided to try my hand at welding. I took an old vintage tricycle that I once bought just because it was old and was using in the front yard as a decoration. I cut the front of another tricycle that wasn’t vintage, that was just worn out and I hooked the two tricycles together.
I RE-CREATED OUR DADS tricycle built for two. I just wanted to have it to look at for decoration, put it on display near my sweet little garden shed.
The memory of our shared bike is precious to me. I wanted to recreate the contraption to show our Dad, and send it to Stan. I thought he would get a real kick out of it. Come to think of it,………
I can ALMOST see his eyes GLARING at me now, clear from Kentucky.