Rob Lowe’s got nothing on me; I peaked even earlier than high school. I would say my best years were between the ages of eight and nine.
The 1950’s afforded youngsters an extended mobility that in today’s scary world may never again be duplicated. Along with my neighborhood buddies, I built dams and floated armadas, slew monsters, and protected defenseless damsels from attack from sunup to sundown—day in and day out.
My imagination made me wealthy. For example, I always dreamed of having a gas-powered go-kart, but knew that was out of reach—but I could pretend!
With the help of my brothers, I cobbled 2×4’s together along with axles from a beleaguered Red Flyer wagon. The seat was a board nailed to a single 2×4 that stretched forward until it intersected with a second 2×4, held by a single bolt to allow it to swivel. Nails bent in crisscross fashion over the axle held it in place and a short piece of rope tied to each end of the front axle provided a race-worthy steering mechanism. After a thorough dousing of 3-IN-ONE® Oil to assure maximum velocity—it was ready!.
We lived high atop Berne Township’s tallest mountain range, perfect for gravity powered go-karting. Traffic was never an issue during the middle of the day on Lake Road. Other than an occasional rattle-by of Ol’ Mr. Spangler’s decrepit ‘36 Chevy pickup, there simply weren’t any cars to look for. After all, back then every household had only one car and the dads had driven them to work. Lake Road became our official downhill racetrack.
When you’re number three of four brothers you understand pecking order. And so I figured I’d be third to speed down our hill, but to my complete surprise, I was awarded the role of “official test pilot.” I was thrilled… what an honor!
A band of brothers, one rickety hand-built go kart and a quarter mile of steep asphalt ending in a hard left-hander at the bottom stared me down like a fire-breathing dragon. At age nine, I was about to learn the incredible effects of gravity, not knowing if it was my friend or my worst nightmare.
Tom, Dave and little Stevie crowded around the push pole, a broken broom handle with a nail that gouged into the back of the cart. (What could possibly go wrong there?) Amid a chorus of grunts, their tennis shoes slapped the hot asphalt and I was off. They scrambled along behind the cart until gravity outpaced them. I instinctively hunched forward, my whitened knuckles strangling the rope…err…steering mechanism. I felt what the Wright brothers must have felt, as I zigzagged erratically down the hill, all four wheels wobbling in protest as the asphalt blurred under me.
The crash is still under investigation.
Nearing the bottom of the hill the left hand curve loomed larger and larger. This may have been the first time I remember experiencing genuine fear.
Suddenly and without warning, the left front wheel and the right rear wheel simultaneously flew off their axles as though propelled by an explosive device. In spite of the noonday sun, the spray of sparks lit up the roadway under me. Now at maximum velocity, I was totally out of control. The cart veered left, jumped the ditch and gouged into the embankment, sending me flying head over heels. I remember the flight but I don’t remember the landing. Eventually I awoke to three grinning faces staring down at me, each excitedly retelling their rendition of the spectacular crash. “That was great!” they sang in chorus. “Let’s do it again!”
Sometimes things happen you just don’t see coming. Older and a bit wiser, I’ve learned that nothing surprises God. He knows everything about us, including our past and our future. Here’s a Scripture verse that has become the favorite of so many:
“I know what I’m doing. I have it all planned out—plans to take care of you, not abandon you, plans to give you the future you hope for. When you call on me, when you come and pray to me, I’ll listen.” Jeremiah 29:11-12 The Message
I’m not sure, but I think I learned to pray somewhere between the seat of that cart and the side of the embankment. Don’t be like “I-Peaked-at-Nine” Ron Grubb: pray often… He’s listening.
