A Different World

This is where I grew up - in a different world. It was the 1960s, and a rural area between small towns. Everyone had from 5 to 20 acres, and there was a half mile stretch of woods on both sides of the road that must have totaled 200 acres. We rode bicycles on country roads, and were transported to school on busses. 

Kids played outside all over the area with little to no supervision. My best friend and I would ride our bicycles four miles each way into the nearest small town with a bookstore. Nobody worried about traffic, or nefarious adults. 

We also road our bikes in the woods, and on jumps we made, and pushed the safety envelope in many ways. Of course, no helmets or pads. We did what became BMX off road biking before it was thing. We also would wet down my sloping back yard and slam on the coaster brakes to intentionally crash and slide while avoiding hitting the concrete porch on the back of the house. My friend delivered newspapers by bicycle, which took a good three miles to make up enough customers for a route. I was his backup.

There were all sorts of niches to play in around the woods, including a pond with a sketchy raft made of boards mailed across a piece of hollow log. There was an another spot with a creek to play explorer, and a neighbor kid had a pile of dead logs and roots we used to play army tank. 

We had a full size barn on our property, which provided all sorts of play opportunities. One of these was jumping off the hay loft into loose new hay below. My Dad endorsed this practice. I still have two chipped lower teeth from putting my knee into my mouth. My mother was not amused. 

We had horses, ponies (Shetland and Welsh), and a donkey. The ponies were used in harness with a cart, wagon, and chariot. One time a neighbor kid tried to climb on while I was driving the pony cart, slipped and got his foot caught under the wheel sliding on the pavement. The pony panicked. It severed an artery and blood flew high. The kid was OK, but messed up for a while. Another time, the pony was on an uncontrolled run for the barn and, as we turned into the driveway, the cart turned over spilling me out and trapping the pony upside down. My mother was more worried about the pony as the intestines can get kinked and kill a horse/pony. 

We also ended up with Honda trail bikes to flog about like our bicycles, as well as a flimsy gas powered go-kart. My friend was riding the go-kart and the throttle jammed with him going head on into a barbed wire fence. Come to think of it, he also was hurt twice on bicycles. Once his back slid down a barbed wire fence, and once he slid on his knees on the pavement. 

No matter how many injuries we all incurred, childhood remained free for us. Life wasn't considered unsafe, and we remained at liberty to experiment and play hard. That area I grew up in is now all one subdivision after another after another, with tiny lots and plenty of traffic. I live in the "big city". It is a different world.