Brothers

My brother is one of my favorite people hands down. He's awesome and handsome, and successful. I have so many hilarious, and heart warming stories of him and I. I share one of those now.

It was summer and the 1970's. It was a time when kids could still play outside unattended, and therefore have loads o fun. We used our bicycles for everything and this sad day, we caught a hitch. His bicycle chain had bitten the dust. One look at his sad little mug, and I had to think of something. In no time, we devised a plan to overcome this small problem because

"we will not be stopped."

There was always water or a creek near us growing up. This summer we had been working diligently on building a water dam with our posse of friends. Summers were unsupervised back then. It was a gift of childhood outdoor exploration and discovery that the newer generations, especially in a big city, don’t seem to have the benefit of. Boogiemen have become a reality (and that thought makes me sad.)

Rusty, Micheal and Cory were already bound to be there, on the banks of the creek collecting debris, trash, rocks and whatever else that presented itself to complete our dam. They would be wondering where we were. We also only had the daytimes before dinner to work on it.

After dinner we played marbles in the corners of the small squares of lawn belonging to each of our city subsidized townhouses.Or we played “Hotbox”; a game that had 2 kids with baseball gloves, facing each other on each of the sewers, that acted as bases at a distance of about 50ft. Another kid “the runner,’ would position themselves on one of the sewers. The catchers would start throwing a ball back and forth, and when one of them would overthrow or undercatch, the runner would take the opportunity to run to the opposing sewer. If they made it, the runner would receive a point. If the catcher was fast at retrieving the ball and made it back in time to tag the runner, the runner would be considered ‘out’ and would now have to become a catcher. The person who had tagged them out would now have point opportunity as a runner. It was crazy fun, for the times we had to remain in the neighbourhood, within sight should one of our mothers look out the kitchen window.

The creek though was only for the daytime. Besides, teenagers sharing a fifth of gin and a joint they got from their mothers room were always at the creek at night. Who doesn't hate stupid teenagers?

I remembered some skipping rope that we had received last Easter as one of our presents. It paled in comparison to the chocolate, so it still had its packaging, although idle and in the back of the garage. It was hot pink with handles that were thicker and stripped with white. We used the 25 ft rope as our towing vessel. I tied one end to his bike just beneath the handlebars so as not to affect his steering, and the other end to my bike at the seat post. Chain Shmain. We were off.

I looked back in on Rob often to make sure he was still behind me. He appeared unsteady but still behind me none the less.

See Chelle?! I'm doin' it.

The elastic rubber rope, created a fun effect. Robbie would be dragged behind slowly and sluggishly until the rope was taut, and at that moment he would be propelled slightly by the stretched band’s strength. I used the times he was propelled to pedal slowly or not at all so I could work harder the other times.

Between our house and the creek was a small hill. Small to me now as an adult, but as a child it was significant. I started down the hill and was instantly concerned for Robbie. I had picked up enough speed to be nervous for him, and out of genuine concern and complete stupidity, I stopped, stepped down and turned to make sure he was okay. Given that he had no chain, on a one-speed bike, that also meant that he had no brakes. A small detail it seemed.

I looked back just in time to see him pile into me with a hail of yelling that was both terrified and comical. I remember his mouth fully open, eyes crazed looking straight at me as he came crashing into the rear of my bike and on from there to be thrown fully from his seat and over his chopper handlebars, into and over me to meet the pavement face first. He lost most of the skin of the left side of his face, including some of his eyebrow, to the gravel.

Crap.

The road rash and therefore constant parental attention, affection and punishment for me existed for about 2wks. The dam was also put on hold that day. Stupid brothers.