In 1981, my dad pulled into the driveway on July 2 with this used mini bike sticking out of the trunk of his car. It was my 12th birthday, and I was ecstatic. I had no idea I was going to get something with a motor!
And what a motor it was. That's a five horse Briggs and Stratton engine, and although the mini bike didn't have a speedometer, I could easily pass mopeds that were going 25 mph.
Look at that happy guy.
(Those socks are longer than your shorts, nerd.)
Besides the speedo, the mini bike didn't have shock absorbers, a horn, and there weren't any lights, either. Plus take a look at the handlebars. Do you notice what's missing? There aren't any brake handles. Do you know why?
It didn't have brakes.
Seriously. Can you imagine giving a kid a vehicle that was capable of going over 30 mph, but wasn't capable of stopping? What was my dad thinking?
For a while, I didn't care. I'd just let up on the throttle, and slam my tennis shoes on the pavement when it was time to slow down. Those Four Stripe Adidas (AKA Scats) didn't last long. In one week I wore down the soles until holes appeared and I burned the bottoms my feet. By the time I went through a second pair of shoes, I started asking some questions.
When Dad bought the mini bike from a local farmer, the guy threw in three extra wheels, and one of the wheels had a sprocket and drum brake already mounted to the rim, "Dad? Why can't we use that one?" Although he never explained why, Dad assured me that wheel wouldn't work.
So, I did what I always do when I have a mechanical problem. I went to the public library. There I found a book like this.
The book had photos and a description of a "friction" or "scrub" brake. A scrub brake is a bent bar with a metal flap that is attached to the bike's frame. Basically, it's a lever.
The bend on the left is the brake "pedal", and stepping down on it forces the plate to rub against the tread on the back tire. That's pretty primitive, but it's better than looking like Fred Flintstone. Here's a mini bike frame with a scrub brake installed.
When I showed the scrub brake plans to my dad, he screwed his face into a wince and growled, "We can't afford that! What you have is fine!" Whenever he reacted like that, I knew better than ask again. I simply returned the book and put on another pair of shoes.
For those who are about to die, we salute you.
(These really are my shoes. I keep them at school for the retro theme day during homecoming.)
The next summer the mini bike was stored at my Grandpa's farm, and I terrorized his milking cows when we'd visit. By the time I could legally drive a moped, the mini bike was sold for its engine, and the brake-less frame was scrapped. I remember being a little sad when I heard it was gone. That was like saying goodbye to the dangerous kid who always got you in trouble, but was so much fun to hang out with.
I know hindsight is 20/20, and I've tried to put myself into my dad's head at that time. But as a father myself, I still don't know what he was thinking. That bike was a death trap. I have no clue how I avoided hitting anyone or anything.
But maybe when Charlotte is grown up, and she sees this video of herself running around inside the Hy-Vee beer cooler, she'll have some questions for me.
I hope I'm still around to defend myself...
[Okay, since I am here, let me explain.
During a screaming hot summer day last year, we stopped at a gas station so Charlotte could use their bathroom. Later, as she ran towards the exit, she passed the store's beer cooler. Her body triggered the motion detector doors, and the noise startled her, as did the blast of cold air. But then, with a broad smile, she shouted, "Cold room!" and ran inside. For three gleeful minutes she flew around the cooler, basking in the chill. Now anytime we're at a gas station or a grocery store, no matter the temperature outside, Char's looking to burn off some energy in their "cold room".]
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