Posted on 08/14/2010 12:35:16 PM PDT by JoeProBono
I was lucky. I was an Army brat, so my typical ride was with an 18-22 y.o. G.I.
I will admit that I stopped doing this once I almost got mashed by an innocent driver coming along one of the cross streets....
However, then we'd go down and play "bike polo" in Riverside Park. This consisted of riding your bike like a maniac and hitting a stone with a stick or branch you'd picked up while other kids were trying to do the same.
Life was getting more dangerous at that time, but still, in NYC, your mother really wasn't worried about you until some time after darkness fell.
Used to ride my bike down a long series of granite steps
We did the “skitching” thing. But probably the most dangerous was running next to, and jumping slow moving trains. One slip or trip on those big railroad rocks and we could have been easily cut in half.
At which time, you instantly become Eval Knieval.
We had a rope swing and swung out back and forth before an oncoming train.
Too old to do that now.
Sounds like my brother and me, we did it all including a tree house 40 feet up. We also had BB gun wars wearing scuba masks and roman candle battles with trash can lids for a shield.
Don’t get me started about fireworks, M80s were still available and cherry bombs worked quite well lit by an assistant and fired from a wrist rocket slingshot. We somehow survived it all.
All
You all bring back so many memories.
Didn’t we have a great childhood.
My girl scout uniform wasn’t complete with my knife.
Never needed a watch, when the street lights came on,
time to go home.
Thanks guys.
LOL ..on one heavy snow, we took an old car hood and 5 or 6 of us would ride on it while it was being pulled behind a truck. I remember once we hit a mailbox and i was thrown off, the hood smoothed the snow over me like cake icing.... ahhhh good times... I’m lucky to be alive.
i played with explosives... you?
Sledding down a hill that had a bump in the lower section. Sled would go into the air and you could do a barrel roll if you were quick.
Landed a lot of the rolls on the ice, on my back.
Jumped off the top of the house and out of trees using a box, trash bag, or shirt for a parachute.
We shot a lot of trap and hunted a lot of dove while almost always chewing on lead shot.
Boiled/burned sulfur, lead, and even mercury on top of the big natural gas heater that Dad had in his machine shop.
Quicksilver (mercury) was a fascinating toy for us. Anytime we could get even a little of it, we would play with it for hours. In our hands, on our clothing, ingested it—all sorts of things. We would take our BB guns and shoot out the mercury vapor street lamps and let that gunk drip on us and even try to catch it in our mouths.
Rode our bikes in the thick fog behind the DDT trucks as they sprayed for mosquitoes.
The day after I graduated in 1976, my oldest brother and I hitchhiked from Kermit TX to Baton Rouge LA. Never had a concern. Was preparing to hitch back at the end of the summer when my dad sent a bus ticket instead.
Drove from Columbus MS to Kermit TX and back several times. Always stopped at the same rest area outside of Dallas for a nap. Would sleep in the car for a couple hours with my Colt .45 laying on my chest and then finish my drive.
By far, the stupidest and most dangerous thing done, and worst beating my little brother and I ever got, was when little brother put one of those huge plastic tarantulas in front of Dad’s shop. Dad hated spiders. He shot it with a shotgun and then beat the fool out of both of us for it.
“—operate a hand clutch row-crop John Deere “B” as agricultural labor on my father’s farm—hands down , the most dangerous farm implement of its time-—
I drove one down a good hill on a dirt road with an empty hay wagon on the back. Talk about exciting! No brakes to speak of and the engine didn’t help. My Uncle still has “the B”. I like that big open drum for the belt takeoff (or take off a piece of your anatomy).
Other stuff:
Jumped out of trees using bungee cords made from big sewer pipe rubber gaskets.
Made black powder and put it in copper pipe. BANG. We sealed the ends by hammering them shut.
Hung out over the edge of the roof on the John Hancock Center on a (typically windy) Chicago night to take a picture down to the street.
Roamed around the neighborhood without an adult. Gasp! Barefoot!
Rode my bike down the center line of a country road.
The truck hit me.
Scratched the fender of my bike.
I loved that bike. It was a Schwinn Tornado.
A few bruises and cuts, but no permanent damage.
I was going to add that I went to the observation deck of the Sears (”Willis”) Tower this spring and found I could not force myself out onto the “Ledge.”
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