The
other day my oldest son asked if he could ride his bike to soccer practice. I
thought it a good idea because it's maybe a half-mile or so from the house, and
he's old enough as a 5th grader. That immediately sparked a familiar
debate between my wife and I—the one I keep losing.
But as
such things do, it got me thinking about when I rode all over at my son's age.
In fact my dad used to send me to the store with a half-dollar to buy him a
pack of cigarettes. Imagine your horror today if you saw a 10 or 11-year old
asking a clerk for Benson & Hedges in the box.
As an
occasional runner for my mom, she once or twice had me fetch the dry cleaning
for her, which was cool because in those days it was still okay for a kid to
wrap himself in the cellophane and play spaceman.
None
of my bike trips, jaunts, or journeys was ever taken with the protection of
pads, flags or helmets. And car rides were exceedingly more cavalier. The only
safety belt I ever buckled as a child was on an airplane. That was because
planes fly at a few hundred miles an hour. We never used them in cars since
once only drove at an average max speed of 70 or 80. Okay, maybe on the rare
occasion we opened it up to 120 we might have buckled up.
My
mom, like many mothers back in the day, refused to wear seat belts because they
made her sweat and wrinkled her clothes. Besides that they were
constricting—duh, that is the whole point.
Still,
it was nothing on long or short car trips to sit in the front seat with your
parents. You might even prop yourself up on your knees to see over the
dashboard. Sometimes we even leaned out an open window like a dog. Heck, we'd
climb from the front seat to the back and up front again while Dad cruised down
the road at 75. The car was an open range. I once napped on the rear platform
behind the backseat and under the rear windshield.
Did
anybody else stick their arms out the window and cup their hand to test its
aerodynamics at different pitches? Of course there were the urban myths of kids
losing whole limbs because of passing light posts or telephone poles (which are
usually 2 feet or more back from the curb).
There
were no limits to passengers either. Younger kids regularly sat on an adult's
lap when the car was packed to the hilt. Other times adults were crammed on top
of each other when a big group needed a lift. Safety belts were something you
tucked out of the way between the seat and backrest.
Then
there were pick-up trucks. I drove one in high school and guys often rode in
the back—half the time with the tailgate down and sitting on it with
their legs dangling. You see people riding in truck beds now and you think,
"Have you lost your mind!"
Granted
all this and more can make you both laugh and cringe. However it gets you
thinking that safety is something that's an ever-evolving perception—one
that keeps my 5th grader from being able to simply ride his bike to
soccer practice.
Copyright 2007 by David Falloure
