Pedal Car Blog

Like all kids my age, I grew up rushing home from school to watch programs like “Razzle Dazzle” on TV.  These shows had ads for all the latest toys, like the Slinky or Etch-a-Sketch or Silly Putty.

And of course, the Playmobile.  It was a tiny car with a real engine, and in the ad the kids were chasing one another down the street in it.  I wanted this car more than anything I ever wanted in my life.  I began dropping hints for Christmas.

I might as well have dropped hints that I wanted a solid gold bicycle, for all my parents would or could do.  Six kids on a military salary.  Get used to disappointment.

I promised myself that when I had kids, I would get them a Playmobile.  But of course, I had to go have girls. And my girls couldn’t have been less interested in driving around in a toy car.  Which was fine, because they weren’t making them any more.

So when my daughter presented me with a grandson, I saw my chance to load this kid up with all the toys I wanted as a kid but couldn’t have.  A friend of my wife’s showed us a motorcycle his son has out-grown and he was willing to sell.

Now the little guy tools around on this pretend Mini Moto ATV Sport motorcycle, and I swear the grin on his face is so wide it’s a wonder the top of his head doesn’t come off. And tooling around is what he was doing the other day when I left him in the care of his Mom and my wife and set off to mow the lawn.

I have a fairly big lot, so I bought myself a ride-on mower a few years back. I was zipping around cutting the grass, headphones on, music blaring, when I caught sight of my grandson on his motorcycle.

We locked eyes.  I grinned evilly.  He grinned back.  I dropped my mower down to second gear, let out the clutch and the chase was on.

In second gear, my mower precisely matches the speed of his motorcycle. So I set off in a slow speed pursuit of the little guy, and he was as insanely delighted as a kid could be.

And so was I.  What nobody else could hear was that my music player had switched tunes and the random selection was “Live and Let Die”.  Perfect chase music.  We rolled over hill and dale - well, OK, around the yard, with him zigging and sagging to get away and me, always just a few meters behind.

It went on for quite a while, until finally he was looking back at me, grinning and managed to run his motorcycle into a patch of raspberry bushes.  Like most boys’ games, it ended in tears.  But it sure was fun while it lasted.

Finally, almost half a century later, I got my car chase.  And yes, I loved it. I loved it because for those brief, wonderful moments, I was a boy again.

A big boy, sure. But a boy, just the same.