If anyone has Craig Bond's address or email, please send it to me; I'd like to send him a copy of this picture, taken with Lou in the wagon in about 1956.
Notice that this picture is before the garage and carport were built. Although the wagon is somewhat dilapidated in this picture, I remember when I first got it, painted red, with a black handle, white wheels, and "chrome" hubcaps.
I had a very bad compulsion to take every mechanical thing I had, disassemble it, lubricate everything, and put it back together. One time, while reassembling, I damage one of the tabs that held a hubcap on the wheel, causing it to flop, so I left it off. You'll notice that the front wheel facing you is still missing the hubcap. Originally it was the rear cap on the same side that was off. I was "pumping" the wagon, kneeling on my right leg, steering with my righ arm, holding the left frame of the body with my left hand, and propelling the wagon with my left foot. I was doing a good clip down the sidewalk, about in front of the Reisey's house, when my shoeless left ankle struck the axle and/or cotter pin (which held the wheel on). I tore a nasty gash in my ankle, went running home, splaying blood everywhere. I was conviced I would bleed out before I got home.
I don't remember who drove me to Doc Proud's office, while I clutched a kitchen towel to my ankle. That was the first of five such trips for stitches in my childhood. Guess I should have been a hockey player. Anyway, when I got brave enough to climb back in the Radio Flyer, I first switched the hub cab to the back wheel, and that's the way it stayed.
2 comments:
I do recall a Radio Flyer wagon, but I think mine was newer and maybe replaced the one shown in the photo. It seemed my life started on wheels at a rather young age and rolled well into my 15th year. Pretty sure I had a tricycle, but not sure if that was before the wagon. I wonder what we were drinking in the photo. Dark bottle, root beer maybe?
Another thing I notice is the 4-inch diameter walnut tree in the background. That tree would live until the summer of 1969 when a tornado would tear its 12-inch trunk out of the ground and lay it down in the back yard. Dad was told the walnut was valuable and that he could make some money on the wood of the tree. Some guys came and hauled it away, but Dad never saw a dime for any of it.
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