I crossed a relatively busy street to get to kindergarten, without anyone around, as we were on a different time schedule than the rest of the school, and the contract of the Amalgamated Crossing Guards (the union of 6th graders who otherwise took care of helping the students cross streets) had a later shift starting time.
I had to cross The Hard Road (highway) at age six. Our bus stop was the truck weighing station.
Sometimes, my mother would send me to the little neighborhood store, which was also the truck weighing station, for bread or something else they carried that we were out of.
Never thought it was a big deal until I had my own child.
My generation was raised by wolves. Loving wolves, but wolves, none-the-less.