Church, Mud, and a Radio Flyer Wagon

From the time I was in 4th grade until... well, forever, my family was one of those families that were at church every time the doors were open. For a few years, my mom was the church secretary. That meant my brother and I spent a lot of time at church during the summer. I mean A LOT of time at our church.

We went to work with Mom frequently those years. I was probably around 12 or 13; my brother is two years younger. We had a love-hate relationship with this arrangement. Some days it was extremely boring and other days we made the best of it by running wild. We explored the church so that we knew every nook and cranny and every inch of the seven or so acres of property the church owned.

Back when we were cute enough and small enough to play in the wagon

On the rare occasion that we had a good rain we would have major mud fights with whatever neighborhood kids wandered up. They were in the process of clearing trees and creating a walking trail on part of the property so there was lots of mud. It was the sticky kind of mud, the kind that you can throw easily. When you push someone down into it, it sticks everywhere. My Momma was not happy that day. I can only imagine how we must have looked. She knew we were playing outside, but she did not know what we were playing outside. It was a blast until she called us to come in. It was one of those calls where she yelled and we ignored her... repeatedly. When we finally did go in the angry and slightly horrified look on her face was enough to show we had made a bad, bad decision.

Old enough to know better, but reckless enough to crash the wagon

Our church sat on the top of a hill. The parking lot was at the bottom of the hill and there was a driveway up the hill to the doors of the church and the handicapped parking area. This driveway was steep. We brought all kinds of stuff to ride up and down that hill. We rode bikes, roller bladed, and even rode in our Radio Flyer Red Wagon.

That's right two preteens climbed aboard that Radio Flyer at the top of the hill holding onto the handle from inside and using it to sort of steer. That red wagon flew like the wind down that steep hill. It was a terrifying ride. You basically hurtled down the hill far faster than you could control any kind of steering. Since it was a wagon it had no brakes. Thankfully the parking lot was wide enough at the bottom that we could coast to a stop or at least slow down some before we crashed... And crash we did. We crashed into trash cans, rocks, and just toppled the wagon over many times. Finally, the poor Radio Flyer died. The rubber tires wore out to the point of blowouts where the rubber was flying off in big chunks as we flew down the hill. I found out at that early age what awful crashes you can have with blowouts.... even in a little red wagon.