PART I – A LITTLE HISTORY
When I was a kid, pre-teens, my family lived on the outskirts of a small city in Fairfield County, Connecticut in a nice 1950’s ranch house with a swimming pool on a private road. A very nice middle class neighborhood with some eccentric neighbors, family members, friends and a stern but warm Swedish grandmother thrown in to add flavor.
Being the late 1960’s – early 70’s, we lived in what was considered to be the country. This was right around the time that “suburbs” were beginning to be developed so there was still plenty of open space and wooded areas to mess around in. Great place to be a kid!
My experiences in this neighborhood helped to lay the foundation of who I am today
My experiences in this neighborhood helped to lay the foundation of who I am today because this is where I was first exposed to sex, drugs & rock-n-roll (Jazz too, as I was studying piano with an eccentric, well known local jazz musician.), hot rods and of course motorcycles. All of the good stuff! It was the late ’60’s and even as a little kid, I was aware that there was a cultural change in the air. A distinct generational division between the kids that I knew and their parents generation.
One of my first and best friends in the neighborhood was a young girl the same age as I was. She might have been my girlfriend, I think, but I’m not sure. I didn’t even know what a girlfriend was but when her mother spoke to my father about having me spend the night with her, they both decided I should go home immediately. Party Poopers!
Her older brother, a few years older than us and who used to beat the crap out of me on a regular basis, went to Woodstock for the festival. I can remember the conversation with her about Country Joe’s Fish Cheer, gimme an F, gimme a U, what’s that spell? What’s that spell?………. I later became friends with him, but haven’t seen either of them for years. I hope they’re both OK and doing well.
As a side note, I saw Country Joe perform up at Arlo Guthrie’s church with a couple of longtime, good friends of mine a few years ago and he performed the cheer. Not quite the same energy as the original, but lot’s of fun just the same. Anyway…….. Back to the story.
PART II – THE MOTOR
One day, my dad came home and presented me with a mildly used Rupp racing go-kart. This thing was awesome, the go-kart had a 3 1/2 horse Techumseh motor, racing slicks, roll bar, number plate. I was psyched, total freedom for a 9 year old! As we lived on a private road with adjoining private roads. I ran the go-kart all around the neighborhood and actually earned a little respect from some of the older “tough guys” because the kart was pretty fast. I loved that go-kart and drove it for a couple of years until the front left hand tire spindle became bent. Off it came and the go-kart was never repaired. I was bummed but as you can guess, there was plenty of adventure waiting as I got older.
Dumb luck on my part because I had no idea what I was doing!
When we moved to the new, previously mentioned upwardly mobile house with the better schools and better address, the go-kart came with us and was thrown into the basement. As luck would have it, one of my first friends from the “The Pond” neighborhood also had a Rupp go-kart that was minus an engine. A while before this I had taken the Techumseh motor apart, mostly for curiosity’s sake, and reassembled it so it was ready to go. I’m positive that when I reassembled it I must have advanced the cam and removed the governor because when we first used the motor, it was extremely fast (for a 3 1/2 Tecumseh) and revved like crazy. Dumb luck on my part because I had no idea what I was doing!
We built up my friend’s kart and had some fun with it until a minor disagreement forced us to part ways. So now I had the motor back for my incapacitated go-kart.
PART III – THE MINI BIKE
About a year or so after I first moved to “The Pond” neighborhood, I met a bunch of guys that would become lifelong friends. Most of us weren’t really interested in school at that time. As I remember, our attention was more focused on hanging out, girls, motorcycles, fast cars, music and general mischief, etc… so we all got along famously. For a while we were a pretty tight knit gang! Some of them have come in and out of my life at various times as our lives have evolved, but each time we re-communicate it’s just like we’ve left off at the end of our last conversation. Even after several years of non-communication. I’m sure others reading this will have similar experiences but I take comfort in knowing that these folks are still out in the world and every once in a while, I get to share some laughs (and maybe some beers) with them.
One of my oldest friends from that era (Actually, today he lives down the road from me and we still manage to get into trouble from time to time.) acquired a mini bike, minus an engine (You see where I’m going with this?) from a friend of his. For some reason which I can’t recall, we decided to mount my Techumseh motor into his frame. Great idea, this made for a pretty fast little mini bike,
As well as the really cute young lady (Once again, she was only eighteen or nineteen, but being in our early teens, she seemed much older and more exotic.) that was the cab stand’s dispatcher.
Now, besides “The Pond”, the other place that we would spend most of our free time during these years was the taxi cab stand at the local train station. The train station was at the end of the line on a local side line for the Metro North Railroad and was a magnet for the town’s misguided youth. My buddy kind of worked there on an informal basis so we knew the guy that ran the cab stand and most of the drivers. As well as the really cute young lady (Once again, she was only eighteen or nineteen, but being in our early teens, she seemed much older and more exotic.) that was the cab stand’s dispatcher. Next to the cab stand was a small utility closet that my buddy used to store the mini bike.
PART IV – MY FIRST ATTEMPT AT JUVENILE DELINQUENCY
To me, at that time, there was nothing more boring than being in 9th grade english class having a discussion about the Broadway play The Fantasticks, so I said let’s go.
Well, one day while at school, we were in the 9th grade at the time, my buddy threw out the idea that we should go downtown and get the mini bike and go for a ride. That was an outstanding idea! To me, at that time, there was nothing more boring than being in 9th grade english class having a discussion about the Broadway play The Fantasticks, so I said let’s go.
Taking our usual form of transportation at the time, hitchiking, we went down to the cab stand and retrieved the mini bike. First stop was the Texaco station to put about 50 cents worth of gas in it and we were off. I was riding on the back and I can still visualize riding through the side streets of downtown thinking this was nuts. Our route took us through a couple of parking lots and across some small side streets. I’m not sure where our was destination was meant to be, we probably didn’t have one, but as we were crossing one of the side streets we both looked up and saw a police car on the main road. The cops obviously saw us because as the police car slammed on his breaks, I heard my buddy say “Oh Shit”. It was too late though. We were busted!
Back in the day, this was a small affluent town with a low crime rate that had invested it’s municipal funds in a sizable police department. I guess it made the affluent residents of the community feel safe. So it was reasonable , given their resources, that they should exercise their authority, arrest us immediately and confiscate the mini bike, which they did.
I can still see the police car slam on his brakes, throw the car into reverse and speed towards us so we couldn’t make a getaway.
I can still see the police car slam on his brakes, throw the car into reverse and speed towards us so we couldn’t make a getaway. Hey, as I said, this was a pretty fast little mini bike with all of 3 1/2 horsepower carrying two 6 foot teenagers so the chances of us making a clean getaway were pretty good. Not really!
After losing possession of the mini bike and being arrested, we somehow landed back at school that afternoon in front of the principal. I don’t really remember what the principal said, but it was probably something along the lines of “you boys are beginning to head down the wrong path”, but I do remember the look of disgust on the face of my mother and my buddy’s mother when they came to pick us up that afternoon. I’m sure my father gave me a serious talking to, but I also remember feeling that in some weird way he kind of understood that we weren’t juvenile delinquents, just some kids goofing off and having an afternoon adventure.
As time marched on, there were other run-ins with the local authorities but after all, you only get one first attempt at being a juvenile delinquent!
Epilogue: I have been reminded by my co-conspirator that the cute young lady at the taxi stand was the one that retrieved the mini bike from the feds. If anyone knows the whereabouts of the mini bike, or the cute young lady, please forward your information to this website. All information will be kept confidential and a substantial reward will be offered. Remember though that substantial is a relative term!