And now the story… dredged from the family archive. This is reality internet at it’s debateable best folks… (laughs)
Please enjoy!
Cartoon Pen & Watercolour 8″ x 12″ Copyright 2008 Jean Burman
The billy cart stood at the ready… perched precariously at the top of the sloping driveway which pointed down in a jagged line toward the street 250 metres below. I eyed the contraption… anxiously noting the flimsy build-quality… it’s plastic seats barely hanging by the last thread on the screws which “secured” them to the thick sheet of ply that was the cart’s chassis.
The “billy” had foot-controlled steering “secured” with a rope… and bicycle hand brakes fitted on each side of the drivers seat… (not that they actually worked all that well). But the piece de resistance… were the billy cart’s flash side mirrors… and four freewheeling 14 inch spoked bicycle wheels!
They were prone to buckling… everyone knew that. Especially around corners… when the full weight of passengers was forced onto the two opposing wheels. Many a bent up and badly twisted wheel had to be replaced after the long haul back up the hill at the conclusion of some of the cart’s (shall we say) less than successful (but no less spectacular) runs!
Thoughts of what I knew to be true about that billy cart ran through my mind the afternoon my 10 year old son pleaded with me to “come for a ride on the billy… pleeeease Mum?”
I smiled… arms crossed firmly across my chest. Uh-huh… like THAT was going to happen any time soon… (grin)
Childhood Hero Day got me thinking. As a mother I have never particularly regarded myself as a hero. But looking back over the years of mothering children I feel fairly confident in saying I was no shrinking violet either. I did my time like other mothers on the frontline of defence for my kids. Back then it seemed like the only thing to do… and I don’t regret a minute of it!
In many ways… I guess we are heroes to our kids… even if ever so inadvertently! Mum is the person who can fix anything… from a skinned knee… to a science project that just won’t stay stuck.
For my part… those were the days that I learned to become militant in my approach to “pretty much everything”. And even after all the years… the “activist” label still sticks for better or worse in the hearts and minds of my kids!
It would seem I did have guts afterall! (laughs)
But in looking back… no experience large or small could have prepared me for “the ride of my life” that day on the billy cart! Whatever possessed me to take up the challenge I can’t say. But I suspect it had something to do with showing them I was made of the “right stuff”.
Then before you could snap your fingers and say “silly woman”… there I was… bike helmet strapped firmly in place and perched precariously on the back of that flimsy cart waiting for the signal to go. My young son was at the wheel (well okay there was no wheel… but he WAS holding onto the rope)… and I realise this may sound perverse… but I trusted him. He had afterall done this many times before hadn’t he?
And I could be as brave as he thought I was… umm… couldn’t I?
Andrew (age 10) and Chris (age 13) on the Billy
Finally his best friend (and co conspirator in the billy cart venture) gave the nod… and with a push we were off. I remember the girls then aged 8 and 6… their faces bright with excitement as we flew past them out the gate and down the driveway gathering speed at a great rate of knots. The concrete passed quickly beneath us as the billy cart picked up even more speed… and the full realisation of how silly a decision this was for a control freak like me flashed through my mind.
Palm trees lined our driveway all the way to the bottom… and they were now passing us by in a blur. I clung on for dear life as the billy got airborn over the first bump… and then the second… and ran on down the hill wheels whirring in the wind. All I could think about (between screaming my lungs out and wondering how much skin I was going to lose) … was the awful flexing of those 14″ spokes… as we swerved to miss that last palm tree by just centimetres… before taking the final sweeping turn onto the vacant block of land at the bottom of the hill!
I was seeing stars as the billy cart came to a halt in the long grass of the vacant block… and relief swept over me in an instant. My first thought… I’m alive! My second… get me off this thing … NOW!
Oddly enough… that was the day that my reputation as “hero” was (rightly or wrongly) set in stone! All I can say about that is “God bless my kids”… that despite the shameless display of cowardice… and whilst totally freaked out and screaming her lungs out… they still thought their mother was “pretty cool”.
And that’s pretty cool in itself isn’t it?
Aren’t kids great? ~grin~
Well… until they turn 14 anyway… (((chuckles)))
EPILOGUE
The billy cart met with an untimely demise. Just like little Jackie Paper had done all those years before in Puff… Chris (3 years older than Andrew) grew up… and the billy cart made way for other toys. Chris’ younger brother Scott then took up his seat.
The billy took it’s final run with Andrew, Scott and the dog on board… on the sloping bitumen of Park Street right outside his house. What really happened that day I can’t say. It wasn’t my watch. But the story goes… the dog jumped off… the billy cart slewed… the wheel came off… the billy crashed… and both kids were dumped face first onto the road. The dog hasn’t been seen since… (just kidding!)
Multiple stitches ensued… and a brand new front tooth for Andrew. The billy was dispatched to where all good billy carts go when they die… wherever that is. I didn’t want to know. LOL
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