The Bigwheel (youngsters:humor, 2740 words)
Author: audonick	Added: Feb 09 2004	Views/Reads: 5007/3074	Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
This is how a simple trike known as the bigwheel can be used by some very creative children

Click here to read the first 75 lines of the story

comes with the territory when you're dealing with kids like us. One of 
us would get hurt if we were playing Monopoly. Don't get me wrong, we 
weren't injury prone, we were just an accident waiting to happen. As I 
went downstairs to get the bigwheel, I heard Mom holler to me, "And 
don't bring that thing through the house." 

"Okay, Mom!" I hollered back. 

When I brought the bigwheel up, the real fun began. We decided that we
would each do a lap of the porch. That really kept us occupied.  For a 
whole ten minutes. Fortunately for us, and unfortunately for the P's, 
we were blessed with the gift of improv. We could take a game and raise 
the suspense and danger factor to new unforseen heights.  In this case, 
it was no different. Due to our competitive natures, the first 
enhancement was to see who could complete the lap in the shortest 
amount of  time. Well, with no stopwatch, speed was relative and a loud 
dispute was soon raging on the front porch. 

"I'm the time to beat," Bev said. 

"No way, I was way faster than you the last time. Tell her, Travis!"
Virgil screamed. 

"How's he know?  He ain't payin us no mind. He can't even tell you who's
on the bike!" Bev screamed back. 

"Try it again. Try it again. I'll tell you who's faster!" I shouted back
to be heard above the din. 

About that time, the front door opened and out stepped Mom.  "Keep it
up. Maybe get a little louder. The whole neighborhood may not be able 
to tell who's faster, but they'll sure be able to tell who's louder. 
Maybe even your father will be able to hear you and you know what that 
means. So just keep it up. We'll just let him handle it." With that, 
she closed the door. 

We didn't need to be told what that meant. Dad was down back, working in
the shop. If he made an appearance, we were going to be in deep, really 
deep. So we decided it would be in our best interest if we sort of 
modified the game just a bit. Besides speed is relative. 

Speaking of speed, have you ever noticed that it's extremely difficult
to maintain your speed while going through a turn? We began to take 
notice of that very phenomenon in the last few laps Carole and Carl 
turned. They would stay real close to the porch railing, dive into the 
turn cutting off a few precious seconds. 

"I wonder how fast you could go and still make the turn at the end of
the porch," Carl mused. 

"Any of us can make the turn on the other end if we're pedaling, stupid.
We're not that fast," I said. 

"But what if the person was pushed? We can all run faster than we can
pedal," Bev said. 

"Let's try it. Push me Travis," Virgil said. 

I tried to push, but pushing through that first turn was proving to be
harder than expected. You just couldn't turn the bigwheel while being 
pushed. After several near encounters with the railing, and a 
resounding crack of wood after the last crash, we realized for a 
fleeting instant that no good could come of the game. There were only 
two things that could happen if we continued. Somebody could get hurt 
by crashing into the porch railing or we could possibly break the 
railing. Destroying the railing was definitely not a good thing. 
Because the porch was only four feet off the ground, we were relatively 
certain that we would not get hurt if we fell that far. But it went 
without saying that if we broke the railing, there were going to be 
injuries involved for all of us, if not from the crash certainly from 
dad. The thought made us shudder . . . momentarily. 

"We just can't get any speed," Virgil groused. 

"We're going to find all the speed and then some if we go through that
railing. And that is official," I said thinking about having to try to 
outrun Dad. 

"You're right about that," Bev said. 

"Maybe we could try just using the front of the porch and only go
through the other turn. We should be able to do that without sweating 
about the details. Push me, Virgil, it's my turn." 

Now mind you, the length of the house was somewhere in the vicinity of
eighty to one hundred feet. 

"Where do you want me to stop pushing?" Virgil asked. 

"Halfway between here and the front door," I said. 

"Here we go," Virgil said and pushed off. 

He sprinted halfway down and gave a mighty push and I rocketed down the
front stretch and attempted to go through the turn. The rear wheels 
started to slide and before I knew it  I was facing the other 
direction. 

"Man!" I shouted excitedly, "that was really neat." 

"My turn, My turn!" Virgil cried. 

Virgil got on the bigwheel and Bev pushed him down the porch. As Bev
released him, Virgil barreled down to the turn. Again, the bigwheel 
slid but Virgil was determined to make it through the turn. It wasn't a 
pretty sight, but he managed to muscle the trike through the turn. As 
Virgil disappeared around the turn, we heard a thump.  Bev and I went 
white. We ran to the other end of the porch only to find Virgil sitting 
on the bigwheel laughing his head off. 

"Not only do we have to worry about making the turn, we got to be able
to stop before crashing through the other end. Now we have a real 
adventure. Your turn Bev," he said. 

At that very instant, I felt something.  As a child I wasn't sure what
that feeling was, but I had a sneaking feeling it was associated with 
the idea of receiving some sort of punishment in the very near future. 
I now know that feeling is known as impending doom. 

Bev was next in line. Bev's motto ran along the lines of  anything we
boys could do, she could do better, and that drove her to excel. As I 
stood behind her, I could sense she was determined to make it through 
the turn better than Virgil had. 

"Remember Travis, halfway, no more" she said. 

"Okay here you go," I shouted as we raced down the porch. 

I let go and she was off like a shot. She went as wide as she dared,
nearly brushing the porch rail as she approached the turn, dove down 
hard into the turn and neatly slid the bigwheel through the turn. She 
let the tail end of the bigwheel slide around  and ever so gently 
tapped the railing. Without a doubt a superb performance. 

We each made it through the turn several times more with varying degrees
of grace and agility. As per usual, Bev and Virgil were far better than 
me. They were the true daredevils of the family. I often tried to 
perform their feats, but could never pull them off with the same grace 
and style. As was the norm with us, we found ourselves pushing each 
other further and further down the porch. Bev and Virgil seemed to have 
mastered the turn and could go through it no matter what speed. 
However, I was having more difficulty. You could tell we were nearing a 
climax because each turn ended with a louder and louder thump as we hit 
the railing at the far end of the porch. We were far too involved to 
realize that we had lost control. 

Then it happened. Bev was pushing me. She raced past the front door. I
had a hard enough time controlling myself through the turn as it was 
without the added speed. 

"Let go Bev, let go. I'm never going to make it!" I screamed. Bev hung
steady as if in a trance. 

"I do believe he's going to crash," Virgil said. 

I tried to stay wide, but I hit the railing and lost control. When I
lost hold of the pedals,  I knew I was going in. I actually thought 
about jumping, but everything happened so fast. I hit the railing with 
a resounding crack and the next thing I knew I was sailing off the 
porch. 

"Uh-oh now we did it," Virgil hollered. 

"We better get out of here" Bev shouted, her trance broken by the
impact. She was already down the steps and racing for the cellar door. 

"E-X-I-T, STAAAAGE  LEFT!" Virgil hollered, turned around and bolted for
the cellar door. 

Just then the front door opened.  "You kids need to settle . . ." She
never finished the statement. I don't know if Mom actually saw me, or 
if she just heard the scream. 

"Oh no! AIGHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!" I screamed as I prepared for the crash
landing. I performed well, executing a perfect three point landing in 
the shrubs, simultaneously ejecting from the seat. I did a perfect 
double somersault down the hill, landed on my feet, and, with an 
expression of sheer terror,  headed for the basement. There was no time 
to check for injuries, any and all injuries could be examined, once I 
felt sure that I had preserved my life. As I passed Mom, she was 
standing in the middle of the porch, mouth open in shock and disbelief, 
looking at the bigwheel as the back wheel slowly came to a stop. 

Rounding the corner, I saw Virgil holding the cellar door open for me. 

"C'mon, c'mon." He shouted, keeping an eye on the garage door. I had to
be in the cellar before Dad came out of the garage, or I was on my own. 
We knew we were all in trouble, but he who got caught, usually took the 
brunt of the punishment. Bev and Virgil also knew, that if we all were 
in trouble, I was usually held responsible for our actions since I was 
the oldest.  I was in a no-win situation, but I would rather share than 
take all responsibility. 

"Quick, under the pool table!" Virgil instructed me. I didn't need any
prompting. As I flew down the steps, he closed the door and locked it. 
Better the impending storm blow from only one direction, than from 
both. Mom was usually able to cool Dad down before he got to us, or Mom 
would maybe just deal with the situation herself. 

"Saw the crash, wish I could have seen the landing, but had to go,"
Virgil laughed. 

"I really just wanted to have an accident," Bev giggled, "I never
thought that you would go through the railing." 

"Did the section just break away?" I asked hopefully. Usually the amount
of damage  was proportionate to the punishment. 

"No way. Broke like match sticks. Pieces were flying everywhere. Awesome
display of power and destruction. No, I'd say we have a problem," 
Virgil said. 

"How long do you think we're going to have to wait before . . ." I
started to say when the cellar door slammed and we heard two pairs of 
feet coming down the steps.  "Never mind," I whispered. 

Collectively, we held our breaths and huddled closer together under the
pool table. In  seconds, we were looking at two pairs of shoes. Dad had 
that wide stance which meant he was really aggravated. 

"Would somebody like to tell me what happened out there?" Dad bellowed.
We all huddled a little closer. 

"I know you're under there. Don't make me come under there after you. If
I do, there's going to be hell to pay!" he shouted. 

"We were just playing, and we just had a little accident," I offered
meekly. 

"A little accident!" Dad roared, "It looks as if a wrecking ball hit the
porch. Who was the stunt pilot anyway?"  I heard Mom chuckling in the 
background. 

"It was me, Dad. I really didn't mean it. I guess we just went a little
overboard. I'm sorry," I said. 

Mom was really laughing hard now. Dad was really trying hard to keep
from laughing out loud and keep his stern expression, but we could see 
his pant legs shaking, and we could tell he was laughing too. We all 
breathed a little easier. The crisis had passed. 

"Okay. Here's what I want you to do. I want all you crash dummies to go
clean up the debris, and put that damn bigwheel away. I don't want 
another call today. By the way Donnie, how was the flight?" he asked. 
Within seconds they were gone, but muffled laughter could be heard 
outside the door.  We went out the cellar door and up on the porch to 
the cleanup the wreckage. 


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