The Scooter

My dad was a trader.  He and my uncle had a tire business and almost everyday someone would come by with something to trade or sell.  Sometimes the sale item would be an appliance or it might be produce or wheels.  Most of these items held little interest to me.  One day, however, dad brought home an item that caused my imagination to run wild.

I had never seen such an awesome scooter before.  It was a three wheeled Cushman with two wheels on the front.  The rear looked like a Cushman Husky.  It had a steering wheel like a car and a wooden platform on the front for carryng things.  The seat was on the engine cover and it had a kick start pedal at the front of the engine under the seat.  This was truly a piece of art.  It had a shifter on the side to select forward or reverse .  The brake and accelerator were on the floor in front of the seat. This vehicle was made for me.
It didn't take long to learn how to operate it and it got a daily work out as we drove it on the oil road in front of the house.  The most difficult part was starting it.  My brothers and I were about five to seven years old and none of us weighed more than fifty pounds.  It took all the effort we could muster to crank the scooter.  After we cranked it, we drove it until it ran out of gas.  Most of the time we would take turns driving.  Sometimes one of us would sit on the platform in front.It was on one of these trips with my little brother sitting on the platform, that the "accident" happened.

I was driving our usual route on the oil road.  We would go about a half mile to a cut through road and do a rolling turn around.  Things happened so fast that it was hard to keep the chain of events straight.  One moment my little brother was sitting on the scooter and next moment he was on the road with the right front tire on his head.  I stopped but I knew I had to move off of him, so I pulled forward.  All kinds of thoughts were running through my head.  "Was he dead? Was he seriously injured? How hard was my whipping going to be?"

After I pulled forward, my brother lay still for what seemed a long time.  Next, he began to struggle to stand up.  As he stood,  I couldn't take my eyes off his face.  He had a perfect copy of the scooter tire treads on his cheek.  His first words were " I'm going to kill you!". I knew he was o.k. when I heard that, so I accelerated as fast as I could to get away and think of a way to explain this to mother so I  could keep the scooter and ride another day.