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Little brudder and I on our Big Wheels.
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Our bums could have been permanently
glued to the seats of them . . . how could you know otherwise? We were always
in them.
Big Wheels.
Just beyond the back tires were tiny
plastic cylindrical pieces that would jet out, creating a ruckus when the
wheels would turn. That only lasted about ten minutes. Mum quickly cut them out
with a butcher knife.
I complained of the modification at first (thinking what
she was doing was physically hurting my Big Wheel friend), then realized the
greatness of my new stealth status. I couldn't realistically tolerate the noise anyhow, and Mr. Big
Wheel didn’t seem to mind.
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