A GOOD RIDE OR BAD RIDE
This was the assignment given in 1996 by Walter Quinn at our meeting in Vienna, Virginia of “The Old People’s Writing Class of Memories of our Youth,” or “The Youthful Memories of a Bygone Time by Old Geezers and Pretty Ladies.” I am not sure of the official name of our class.
I only know I have had both types of rides. There are some rides of joy, like leaving college after sixteen years of school agony and on my way to Kane, PA to marry the most beautiful girl I have ever seen and loved with all my heart for 56 years. Bringing the babies home from the hospital. Driving a new car. Airplane rides to visit children only to be superseded by the ride home. In fact the best ride of all is going home. Rides to the hospital, dentist, shopping, funeral homes, school, draft board, troop ship and such, are bad rides.
I have ridden in a uterus, over and under a shoulder, on a hip and in arms. I have ridden tricycles, bicycles, roller skates, ice skates, red wagons, sleds, streetcars on tracks, and an electric bus in Baltimore, horse drawn carts, horses, tractors, Ford model T, A, and B cars, Hupmobile, Army jeeps, trucks, tanks, bulldozers, road graders, busses, trains, airplanes from Pipers Cubs to jumbo jets, boats, ships, rafts, sail boats, row boats, canoes, golf carts, Ferris wheels, merry-go-rounds, bump cars, a three wheel Cushman motor scooter, a Vesper motor scooter, and probably a lot more wheeled conveyances I don’t remember.
I have been taken for a ride. I have been ridden roughshod over and under. I have waited for a ride. I have ridden for a fall, rode shotgun, and ridden herd on the family. I have ridden out hurricanes, tornadoes, lightning storms, and blizzards. I have ridden on waves and at anchor. I have been a real rider and driver all my life. Did I forget a Volkswagen Beetle? I have not been ridden out of town on a rail, rode to jail in a paddy wagon, ridden in a stage coach, or ridden a dog sled.
BUT I have never, nor will I ever ride on a roller coaster. There is not enough money in this world to get me on one time. You may say, “You have missed out on the meaning of life.” I know I have missed out of the meaning of life. “Everyone else is going.” I don’t care what everyone else is doing. “If you won’t ride, you are chicken.” I know I am chicken. “You are a scare-de-cat.” Yes I am. “You are afraid aren’t you?” Yes. I have always had an answer to everyone and not ashamed either. I will not ride, thank you very much!
BUT Brother BUD would have been a very good roller coaster inspector and probably a designer of experimental rides had he not decided to go into a safer job as a Navy fighter pilot. There was never a ride he wouldn’t ride. The family would go to Glen Echo Amusement Park, out in the country, to cool off on a hot summer night. As soon as we parked, Bud was off running to get in line for the roller coaster. He was too young to go alone and by the time we got there he had tickets for dad and himself. Dad would ride with him one time in the beginning and once before we left. Bud would run so much and get so excited that Dad had to make him take time out to keep his heart inside his chest. As soon as Dad could not see his heart beating through his shirt, Bud was off. I got so angry with him taking so many times outs since his time outs were my outs too.
The House of Fun was great. They had revolving drums to walk through, moving walks, funny mirrors, and bucking broncos. There was a ride Bud liked in there that consisted of tricycles ridden down a ramp starting at the ceiling and circling the outside wall to the floor. The idea was to get on the tricycle without peddles and brakes to free fall down the ramp picking up speeds to 100 miles an hour without crashing. I didn’t ride that one either. I saw all those broken, bleeding kids and said NO! BUT BUD might be broken and bleeding but it did not stop him from going back again and again to be broken and bleeding once more. As I look back on our childhood, I am convinced that without more than one guardian angel looking out for Bud, I would have been an only child by the age of five.
I am sure there are roller coasters in Heaven just for him that would make King’s Dominion look like a flat road. Bud is probably the roller coaster designer and test rider of Heaven and has a designed and is operating a coaster just for me, and when I die he will have a car at my side with a coaster built all the way to Heaven and say with his smile of an accomplished rider, “ Come on Chicken. Now that you are dead, lets’ ride my new design built just for you!” I will say, “Cluck, cluck brother Bud, You may be my brother and I am dead, but I will not ever, no never ride a roller coaster through out all eternity and that goes for tricycles down ramps too.” Dad will probably arrive at that time, since Bud would have run on ahead, and make him have a time out and I will have to wait since his time outs are mine too.
PS. I hope the popcorn will be as good in Heaven as it was at Glen Echo those hot summer nights so long ago.
I only know I have had both types of rides. There are some rides of joy, like leaving college after sixteen years of school agony and on my way to Kane, PA to marry the most beautiful girl I have ever seen and loved with all my heart for 56 years. Bringing the babies home from the hospital. Driving a new car. Airplane rides to visit children only to be superseded by the ride home. In fact the best ride of all is going home. Rides to the hospital, dentist, shopping, funeral homes, school, draft board, troop ship and such, are bad rides.
I have ridden in a uterus, over and under a shoulder, on a hip and in arms. I have ridden tricycles, bicycles, roller skates, ice skates, red wagons, sleds, streetcars on tracks, and an electric bus in Baltimore, horse drawn carts, horses, tractors, Ford model T, A, and B cars, Hupmobile, Army jeeps, trucks, tanks, bulldozers, road graders, busses, trains, airplanes from Pipers Cubs to jumbo jets, boats, ships, rafts, sail boats, row boats, canoes, golf carts, Ferris wheels, merry-go-rounds, bump cars, a three wheel Cushman motor scooter, a Vesper motor scooter, and probably a lot more wheeled conveyances I don’t remember.
I have been taken for a ride. I have been ridden roughshod over and under. I have waited for a ride. I have ridden for a fall, rode shotgun, and ridden herd on the family. I have ridden out hurricanes, tornadoes, lightning storms, and blizzards. I have ridden on waves and at anchor. I have been a real rider and driver all my life. Did I forget a Volkswagen Beetle? I have not been ridden out of town on a rail, rode to jail in a paddy wagon, ridden in a stage coach, or ridden a dog sled.
BUT I have never, nor will I ever ride on a roller coaster. There is not enough money in this world to get me on one time. You may say, “You have missed out on the meaning of life.” I know I have missed out of the meaning of life. “Everyone else is going.” I don’t care what everyone else is doing. “If you won’t ride, you are chicken.” I know I am chicken. “You are a scare-de-cat.” Yes I am. “You are afraid aren’t you?” Yes. I have always had an answer to everyone and not ashamed either. I will not ride, thank you very much!
BUT Brother BUD would have been a very good roller coaster inspector and probably a designer of experimental rides had he not decided to go into a safer job as a Navy fighter pilot. There was never a ride he wouldn’t ride. The family would go to Glen Echo Amusement Park, out in the country, to cool off on a hot summer night. As soon as we parked, Bud was off running to get in line for the roller coaster. He was too young to go alone and by the time we got there he had tickets for dad and himself. Dad would ride with him one time in the beginning and once before we left. Bud would run so much and get so excited that Dad had to make him take time out to keep his heart inside his chest. As soon as Dad could not see his heart beating through his shirt, Bud was off. I got so angry with him taking so many times outs since his time outs were my outs too.
The House of Fun was great. They had revolving drums to walk through, moving walks, funny mirrors, and bucking broncos. There was a ride Bud liked in there that consisted of tricycles ridden down a ramp starting at the ceiling and circling the outside wall to the floor. The idea was to get on the tricycle without peddles and brakes to free fall down the ramp picking up speeds to 100 miles an hour without crashing. I didn’t ride that one either. I saw all those broken, bleeding kids and said NO! BUT BUD might be broken and bleeding but it did not stop him from going back again and again to be broken and bleeding once more. As I look back on our childhood, I am convinced that without more than one guardian angel looking out for Bud, I would have been an only child by the age of five.
I am sure there are roller coasters in Heaven just for him that would make King’s Dominion look like a flat road. Bud is probably the roller coaster designer and test rider of Heaven and has a designed and is operating a coaster just for me, and when I die he will have a car at my side with a coaster built all the way to Heaven and say with his smile of an accomplished rider, “ Come on Chicken. Now that you are dead, lets’ ride my new design built just for you!” I will say, “Cluck, cluck brother Bud, You may be my brother and I am dead, but I will not ever, no never ride a roller coaster through out all eternity and that goes for tricycles down ramps too.” Dad will probably arrive at that time, since Bud would have run on ahead, and make him have a time out and I will have to wait since his time outs are mine too.
PS. I hope the popcorn will be as good in Heaven as it was at Glen Echo those hot summer nights so long ago.
posted by JackSML | 9:25 PM
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