Bespoken and bespectacled, I swore never to utter mud slinging slurs on curs and vipers of the world. Too late. It was a playground thing that you couldn’t swat a kid with glasses. Why was that? Had I been smarter not younger I might have procured a set of fakies at the time. Bruises showed differently.
It was a country school for sure. A place where roast woodcock for lunch was a normal thing to see. Blood was drawn every recess, and teams were picked for talent first, filler second. Near to everyone came on a bus. Ours took an hour each way. In the warmer months we would opt to ride our bikes the 10 or 12 miles through the unthawed back roads in spring to school.
Times now a parent won’t allow a teen to walk 30 feet alone let alone some order of kilometers. Not much in the woods those days, fox, bear, deer, racoons, and sundry other vermin. Some good for eating some not. On the same hand drivers on those roads took some liberties. On a lane and half wide road, there is not much space if you are cutting the corner.
The ditch at times was a welcome resting place when one of the Thompson brothers would come by spewing dirt and gravel on the wrong side of the road. We would still get there before the bell rang. Stopping to skip stones, push down a punky tree, or just chasing down some mink with fish, we pushed on.
The road home in reverse was calmer, but we were already hungry in the first mile or so. Less kibitzing on that ride. Down the hills, head pushed forward for that ultimate speed attainment. Yup, saw a few in the ditch from that too. The grind back up would prove we were hungrier than we thought.
Never knew a lock on a bike or a house or a car until my 20’s. The ole Chevy S15 didn’t even need a key to start. Close the door walk away. If you really needed it, I guess you could have it. Wouldn’t get far, everyone knew it was ours and would confront you if you were not family driving it. More than a tank to clear the area of those in the know.
Bobby knew it back then and I s’pose it's more so now. These times they are a changing.
Make it Black again back again Bob
Mark Hull Du Calumet, First of the coterie of York, Son of Don, Scion of Karl in the House of Pfunkstadt, Connubial of Suzanne, Yeoman to the Hun of Honda, Prevailing in the Seat of Hespeler, Having been again to Australia, and now Grandad's Land, and for some, from The Dark Side. Not am Main nor ab der Elba, but down the Donau, and with Turkish Chai. #garagelurker2019
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