The Wagon Incident

Writing that last blog entry got me thinking of my friend Lance, who I have known since I can remember. We have certainly had our share of adventures and mishaps.

But one comes to mind above all others.

I like to call it the wagon incident.

Like most kids, I had a wagon. Mine wasn't a Radio Flyer like others. Mine was a Coast to Coast knock off version, but, man, I loved and cherished that thing just the same.

In fact, I was the only kid in the neighborhood who had one, so it was coveted.

I kept it in pristine condition. I shined it regularly. I Armor Alled the tires. I spent hour scouring the neighborhood for the small red plastic hub caps that would inevitably pop off the wheels (I was NOT going to have a white trash wagon). Dad even made a 'topper' for it - an imitation of the ones that were on pickups - out of plywood.

I often tied the wagon up to my bike and tore around the neighborhood, making a hell of a racket as I went too.

Then one day late in the summer Lance and I had the brilliant idea that we would build a fort. Only Lance and I weren't too keen on the building part.

We scoured every inch of our neighborhood in search of the perfect spot. We thought about the old abandoned rail road station and grain elevator a block to the west, but we decided against that.

We didn't really want a tree house fort.

Finally, we found the perfect spot: the lilac bushes that bordered our driveway and the side of our neighbor's home.

Lance and I went to work ridding it of the bees that infested it because the lilacs were in full bloom. Once that was done, we moved in. This meant that Lance borrowed a couple cushions off the couch in their old garage (why we didn't choose that spot for our fort is still unclear). I grabbed some Oreos. But since I outweighed Lance by quite a bit, I'm sure he didn't get many Oreos or room on the couch cushions.

Eventually, we figured that since we'd move in permanently in a week or so, we should build a chimney and fireplace. Please keep in mind we were third graders at this time. And not the brightest third graders in the world at that!

We had one problem. There were precious few bricks to be had.

However, one day as we were doing the rounds with my wagon, we came down the alley to the north of the high school and spotted a neighbor adding on to his house with bricks. He had them stacked up as high as we could see. It was perfect.

Lance didn't hesitate running over and trying to load my wagon.

I was having none of this though. First, we had to secure a few dish towels from our mothers' kitchens to line the bed of my wagon. There was no way I was going it get it all scratched up.

We returned for the bricks. As luck would have it, no one was around.

So we simply began to load the bricks into the wagon.

Now, again, here our third grade logic is more than evident. We certainly weren't going to have enough bricks to actually build anything. We certainly didn't have any mortar either.

But that didn't stop us. I'm reminded of some of our other hair-brained ideas, such as one spring when Lance and I would ride around on my bike and Lance would pull my stocking cap over my eyes and direct me as we cruised down 3rd Street by calling out "right" and "left." The only problem was Lance didn't quite have his rights and lefts down. This resulted in us slamming into the back of a parked car.

You'd think we'd have learned?

But, sadly, no . . .

We proceeded to pile several more bricks into my wagon all the while peeking around to see that the owner didn't come out and catch us.

I'm sure we only had four or five bricks actually loaded - though in our young minds it looked like we had a whole semi load - when the owner actually did spot us.

"Hey, you kids! What do you think you're doing?" is mostly likely what he said.

But what our young minds heard was more along the lines of "Hey, what are you doing? I'm going to kill you both and crush that damned wagon!"

Needless, to say, Lance and I tore down the alley.

Again, where we were actually going was no real mystery. Everyone knew everyone else in the neighborhood, so it's not like we had a secret hide out to stash the stolen goods or it's not like he didn't actually know who we were - and worse - who our parents were!

But we obviously weren't thinking much throughout this whole ordeal and we most certainly weren't thinking now.

I had grabbed the handle to the wagon and began pumping my chubby legs as fast as they could go.

Lance was behind pushing on the back of the wagon for added speed.

We ended up tearing out of one block, through Chicago Avenue, and into the alley that ran behind our homes.

We didn't let up. We kept going right past our homes.

Now where we were heading, I'm not sure. Actually, we were running out of alley!

The only thing that kept me running wildly was the fact that Lance kept yelling, "Hurry up! He's catching up. He's catching up! Faster, faster, faster!"

Finally, we were at the end of the alley and I was seriously thinking about dashing through the street and jumping the curb and tearing right through the abandoned lot where the old train depot and grain elevator were.

Before I did that, though, I thought I'd take a peak back and see this guy who had chased us for so long.

That was when I discovered Lance's little ruse. Obviously, I had underestimated his intelligence.

For there was Lance, still shouting, "Hurry up! He's catching up. He's catching up! Faster, faster, faster!" However, there was actually no one chasing us. Worse, Lance was actually sitting on top of the few bricks we had in the wagon!

He had just enjoyed himself a nice little ride for the better part of two and a half blocks!

I began to wonder if this cunning little shit actually did know the difference between his lefts and rights and just wanted to see me plow into the back of a parked car.

I never underestimated him again!