Makeshift Pinewood Derby

Thunderstruck!

Every fiber of my being involuntarily contracted as if my heart was being shocked by electric current with the paddles of a defibrillator.

While my small frame was catapulted into the air to an uncertain doom at the bottom of a stairwell, my blue eyes grew wide as time came to a grinding halt with the events of the next few moments playing out in slow motion.

Along with my brother John, cousin Lori Farrell and favorite pal Johnny Puskarich, I was taking part in a bit of tomfoolery.

The day following my kindergarten graduation, we helped my Aunt Margie and her family move into their new apartment at the top of the hill behind the Main Street Elementary School in Bentleyville, Pa.

Once our band of mischievous little devils tired of bouncing on the double bed, my big brother noticed something funky on the opposite side of the room that piqued his interest. When the oldest of the bunch led us over to the closet, he squatted down and ran his hand across the red wooden panel of our cousin’s Radio Flyer Town & Country Wagon filled with stuffed animals.

“Why don’t we take these toys out of the wagon,” announced the leader of the pack looking up at his comrades with a broad smile. “Then we can all take turns going for a ride.”

In agreement, we quickly emptied out the wagon placing the plush toys into a nearby wire basket before beginning our next exciting adventure.

“I think we should take the wagon to the other side of the hall,” explained the freckle-faced lad as he pulled the wagon by its handle toward the door. “The empty room has way more space to ride around.”

I hurriedly scooped up a red cowboy hat with a stampede string, which was hanging from the back of the closet door, before we exited our cousin’s bedroom. After the hellions arrived in the future nursery with their horseless carriage, the rising second graders agreed to let the two kindergarten graduates have the first ride.

I put on the cowboy hat and tightened the stampede string under my chin before climbing into the buckboard behind my favorite pal and grabbed onto his waist.

As soon as the desperados were securely fastened into the mode of transportation with the sides back up, the cousins readied themselves to push from behind. The downstairs neighbor grabbed ahold of the reins as the pair took a spin around the room while laughing hysterically going round and round.

“Faster, faster,” squealed the 6-year-old as the two inside wheels of the wooden vehicle lifted into the air going into a turn. “We wanna break the speed limit.”

“Yippee ki-yay,” I exclaimed while removing the cowboy hat and swinging it around while holding onto the stampede string. “Yeehaw! Ride’em cowboy.”

Unable to hold on any longer, the rising second graders let go of the wagon as they fell to the floor and the wild ride quickly came to an end.

Lori was the next passenger on the imaginary wagon train as it made its way across the old west attempting to outrun the Comanche Indians hot in their trail.

Taking a break from the activity, I sat against the wall to watch the two boys with the same name push our cousin in circles around the room.

“I’m buggin’ out,” declared the lass with the pageboy bob as she giggled while dodging fictitious arrows. “This ride is the bomb. Keep it going.”

After missing the next turn to the make-believe western town, the newest Bentleyville resident headed straight for the wall where I sat looking into my lap.

“Get out of the way,” shouted the six-year-old as I looked up just in time to roll out of her path. “I can’t stop this thing. It doesn’t have any brakes.”

The wagon stopped with a thud as it slammed against the wall. Due to the velocity of the makeshift vehicle, the base of the long black handle created a small hole in the drywall.

“Oh no,” bawled our female cousin as she bent down to assess the damage done to the wall after moving the wagon out of the way. “I’m gonna get in big trouble for this?”

“That’s a pretty small hole,” Johnny assured his new neighbor as he wiped the powdery dust from the base of the wagon handle. “Maybe your mom won’t notice it.”

“My Mom isn’t the one I’m worried about,” explained the rising second grader while standing up with a disgruntled look on her face. “If Daddy Butch finds out, he’s gonna spank me for sure.”

“We can make the hole bigger,” I noted as I bent down poking my little fist through the wall before placing my crown into it. “Then we can say I falled into the wall with my head and hurt myself.”

“I think that might just work,” mentioned the young lass as she hugged her favorite cousin when I stood back up. “I’m glad you thought of that really good idea.”

Once all the hullabaloo was resolved, it was time for the minister’s oldest to take a wild ride on the horseless carriage on wheels.

I went back to his spot on the floor next to the recently created hole in the wall while the two neighbors pushed my big brother about the room.

As the trio of 6-year-olds were making their way around a curve, the freckle-faced lad steered the amusement park-like ride right out into the passageway.

After another couple of minutes, the rapscallions re-entered the future nursery once they rolled the wagon round and round in Lori’s bedroom across the other side of the hall.

“That was the best ride ever,” declared John as he removed the side panel of the four-wheeled conveyance before getting out. “It was also the longest since I was able to go into both bedrooms.”

I got a gleam in my eyes when it was my turn to maneuver the wheels as my favorite pal and I climbed back into the motorless mode of transportation.

“We’re ready to roll,” commented the 6-year-old rising first grader wrapping his arms around his buddy wearing the cowboy hat. “Let’s get this party started. It’s gonna be off the hook.”

Following several revolutions around the future nursery, the preacher’s son navigated the entertainment device out into the corridor. Forgetting to turn the handle to guide it over to Lori’s bedroom, the kindergarten graduates made a beeline for the stairwell directly in front of them.

As the front wheels of the wooden wagon rolled over the edge of the first tread descending the stairs, the little shavers eyes grew as big as saucers thinking their fate was sealed. The lad of Korean descent leaned over the side of the open carriage and grabbed the pony wall with both hands to avoid complete disaster. With their accelerated momentum coming to a complete stop, my little frame lifted out of the cart continuing the forward motion.

The two cousins grappled the back end of the Radio Flyer in the nick of time for the downstairs neighbor to snatch his best buddy from uncertain doom pulling him back to safety.

As the 6-year-olds pulled the Town & Country Wagon back onto the landing, the rising first graders watched with gaping mouths as the cowboy hat flew off my head and tumbled down the staircase.

When the little tykes climbed out of the imaginary wild west stagecoach, I hugged my favorite pal tightly saying, “You saved my life.”