photo #1594666

When we lived outside of Wilmington, N.C., my brother and I used to play cops and robbers on our bicycles with our friends. I've told some of the stories on this page, but the rules were simple. We divided into two teams, and the robbers got a five minute head start before the cops gave chase. There were no boundaries, and there were literally miles of woods around our neighborhood. A touch resulted in an arrest, and the robbers went back to the start and waited after arrest. When they were all hunted down, the teams reversed and we'd start anew. We'd fly through yards, rabbit trails, and well worn bicycle paths. Fences weren't heard of back then, and we could reach incredible speeds, which also resulted in some incredible wrecks and wipeouts. Helmets? Pads? Really? Never ! We'd just lay there, checking for aches and pains while laughing our rear ends off. Yes, we got really accomplished at our game, and it was a great past time growing up. One of many, though it didn't last. As with all good things, those days came to an end. My father accepted a promotion that required us to move to Tulsa, OK. We now found ourselves in Suburbia, complete with paved roads everywhere and fenced yards at every house. We made friends around the neighborhood, and decided to teach them the game of cops and robbers. It didn't work. There was nowhere to go, let alone hide. The fences limited our ability to hide, and pursuit came quickly. Instead, they taught us their game of bicycle tag. Everybody got around a circle, and the one who was "it" sat on his bike in the middle. At GO, we scattered in all directions. "IT" had to touch you, then you were out. My brother was three years older than me, and he could fly on his ten speed. I had a ten speed, too, but couldn't figure out the gearing yet. They used to get me long before him. One day, we were flying towards home, me following my brother, when we learned a terrible lesson. "IT" was on the chase, and we turned downhill, picking up speed when we found a patch of scree. My brother hit it square, and down he went. Helmet? Pads? Gloves? No, no, and no. I can still picture it in slow motion. While the rest stayed with him, I raced home to get my parents. After figuring out there was nothing broken, they helped him into the car, and I walked his bike home. When I got there, they were still cleaning him up, and the asphalt burns were extremely painful. Yes, I've seen hamburgers look better than he did, and it took several weeks before he could even think about getting on his bike again, after missing several days of school. He used the time to recuperate and fix his bike. All of our friends taught us about scree, especially around corners. They didn't know we didn't know what it was because we'd never seen it. "Drifting" on pine straw was nothing, this was very unpredictable. Kinda like learning what happens when you hit a rock with your skateboard on a concrete sidewalk. It's all a learning experience when you become confronted with the things you never knew about. Like releasing the clutch too fast when you learn to drive a stick. Not pulling both triggers on a double barrelled shotgun at the same time just because it has two. Then, there's the first time with a liquor bottle that you snuck out of the house and chugged. Yes, playing the "game" without knowing the rules can give you quite an education. It's better to learn up front what works and what doesn't. Research and questions pay off in the long run.