   Contact Kelli, temporary manager of Doug's "The Wondering Jew" |
Jul. 24, 2007 - 20:39 MDT STEEL WHEELS As a child I loved our town, much as if I were the parent. It was perfect, laid out just as I would have. Things in the right places, and I knew them all. I was raised in what might be called �old town� in the fact that the trees were high and held hands across the streets. In my early years though we were boonified enough that we had not curbs, gutters or black top streets. I remember when they paved our alley with cement. I was given for a birthday a priceless present, a pair of sidewalk skates. Ones that could be shortened or lengthened to fit. Steel they were with ball bearing wheels. Oh, I did practice religiously every day until I felt stable and proficient. Along about that time I was given a membership to the YMCA which was about 35 blocks away (counting the short blocks too would make it 36) about three miles from our house. The first time I rode the street car, I loved to ride the trolley and that was fun, but on the way I began to long to skate there and back. Being summer time, with our streets shaded with those lovely trees I began to skate back and forth through the aisles of green. I learned a lot doing that as well. Many blocks were smooth concrete sidewalks, easy to navigate. Other blocks had trees old enough that roots had lifted slabs of concrete up and I had to watch myself so I didn�t trip. Then there were blocks where sections of sidewalk were slabs of sandstone. I loved those and still love sandstone, sandstone walks, sandstone walls, whatever, as long as it is sandstone. I expect many towns in more humid climes have trees arched over the streets, but in the dry climate here where lawns don�t really belong and many of the trees are water gulpers they were a blessing for me. Out in the countryside when I was a lad, other than farm fields growing stuff, the only trees were the Cottonwoods along side watercourses. Further out sagebrush filled the land except for the streams lines with trees. So puny me I lived on my skates, my trips to the YMCA to swim were great, but I went through our neighborhood on skates. I wore out several pair and was still skating when Dad accomplished a miracle for me. My Mother was a Western Union Branch Office Manager and had spent much time worrying about and visiting in hospital wounded messenger boys who had in some way or another come acropper one way or another. I remember several of the boys were in hospital due to a motorist opening his door as they boy came along on his bicycle. Usually they went over the door and got hurt. So Mom was dead set against me getting a bicycle, but Dad finally convinced her to give in and let me have one. (Side note here: I had been riding bicycles for ages, other kids let me use theirs) Dad bought me my first one, bought it from the man and shop where he got his bicycles when he was a messenger boy. So I went from steel wheels to rubber tires, a bicycle with wooden rims and high pressure tires. I held out for that because I hated to push bikes with balloon tires, they were tiring. Of course those wooden rims went the way of all flesh when I rode down Ruby Hill, lucky I made bottom without crashing. It was a bit of a job handcarrying it home. I had that bicycle when I went to work for the D&RGW/CRIP railroad and navigated the cobblestones down there and managed to not get tangled up with the rails crossing the streets. Heather continued my education on skating, I met her at a roller skating party at a rink in on South Broadway, she was a baby sitter for my best friend who also worked there. I began going with her and she introduced me to roller skates like we used at the rink on the party. I found out early on that she was an excellent skater and also learned the trucks underfoot would allow turns much better than steel sidewalk skates. I learned to dance a bit, with her coaching me. But it can�t be taken away from me the hours spent gliding through the wonderful aisles of green on my STEEL WHEELS . . . . . . . . . . 5 comments so far
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