When I was twelve years old I paddled my one speed bike 14 miles to a cousins house in another community to spend two weeks with him They were somewhat religious...... almost everyone at that time said the rosary every night. Compared to the rosary we said at our house theirs was long drawn out affair and by the end of week one I was pretty fed up with having to kneel straight up for almost an hour. More often then not I was warned by the master of the house to kneel up or else. Finally after praying the rosary one night everyone got up... but when I went to rise a large callused hand fell on my shoulder. Not You my uncle said YOU stay there for another half hour.... and if you move I will add another half hour. After what seemed like two hours , he told me to get up and go to bed without as much as a slice of molasses bread. My aunt said nothing ...When the house was quite, At 2 am I woke my cousin and told him I was leaving,and that I hated his father and I didnt want to stay with them any longer. He tried to talk me out of it but my mind was made up. I slid out the window with me little sack onto the porch and down pipe which was attached to the outside wall. It was a bright moonlit night, the stars was out and my path was clearly lit by the moon. My old bike was made up of many parts and without brakes, except where I could press my foot against the front tire. I was goin a bit too fast goin down over Colliers Bay Hill so I pressed my foot to the tire in an effort to slow me down. The fork of the bike was made up of two forks, cut off and one pushed into the other. It was at the join where it came apart, the wheel continued down the gravel road with a portion of the fork attached and the remainder stuck into the road and I went tumbling over the handle bars $%#^&%%$ When I woke up the sun was just rising through the trees, no bones broken, a big gash on the side of my head, nose skinned over, knees, elbows the same. I found my bike and pushed it off the road and I began to walk.... I was finally picked up by, my god father on his way to St Johns, at the time he ran a taxi service and the car was full. Nevertheless he got me in the car and took me home. After telling my story to Mom, she felt bad for me but gave me tongue bangin with a warning that when Im in someones Elses house I better obey the parents. The next day my uncle was at the house, a hand shake was conducted and I went back with him for another week with my cousin...........That week turned out to be a fun week in the summer of 1956.
Posted on: Tue, 01 Apr 2014 23:42:07 +0000
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