Clubhouse Trap

Our first garage was a long, narrow shed that was divided into several sections. The picture below shows it from behind as it was being torn down in early 1987.

At the end near the road (left side of the picture) was the large garage door to park a vehicle inside the garage. The next section was a small area with a work bench and Dad's tools on the walls. The next section had concrete walls and looked like it once held animals of some sort. And the last section (far right in the picture) was a two-seat outhouse. Guess which section we called our clubhouse. The outhouse.

We spent a lot of time in our clubhouse. The picture above was taken from the outside looking in. We held our top secret meetings and many of our valueless treasures in there. I guess it was because of those reasons that we decided it needed protection.

We rigged a long board across the inside of the clubhouse so when the door was opened, the board would drop down and land on the intruder. It worked in theory, but we needed to test it out. Fortunately (for us) Jill was home. So we set up the trap, called her outside, then sat back and watched to see if our masterpiece in engineering would live up to our expectations. It couldn't have been more successful! In fact, when Jill opened the door the board fell down, landed on her head, and knocked her loose tooth out. Obviously this sent Jill screaming and crying but in my mind and Harry's mind we had succeeded in designing and building our own security system.

Monster in the Closet

One of our interests while growing up was anything having to do with the supernatural. Harry, Jill, and I would tape record in our house to try to catch ghosts talking or making other noises. Over the years we held seances, used a home-made Ouija board, and tried other methods of communicating with the dead.

So when we didn't get the results we wanted, sometimes we created our own. One such manufactured tale took place in what was my bedroom at the time. We were upstairs telling the usual ghost stories and hoping something would happen. But as was always the case, nothing was happening. So while Harry kept Jill occupied in her room I went down the hall to my room, created some commotion, slammed my closet door, then used my fingernails to scrape 'claw marks' on the inside of my bedroom door frame.

I then ran back to the others and explained what had happened: a large wolf-like beast had leapt at me from my closet and as I barely escaped my bedroom it swiped at me with its razor-sharp claws and scratched the doorway. I then took them to my room and showed them the marks on the door.

As you can see in the above picture, the 'claw marks' are still there in 2008. I believe Harry and I were in on this together, but little Jill believed the story. So we finally got what we had been after for a long time, our own ghost story.

Subterranean Explorers

There was a large ditch near our house where we often played, especially after heavy rains. At one end was an entrance to an underground drainage system. But to me and Harry it was the entrance to an underworld of unexplored caves!

We entered with a flashlight and waded down the ever changing passageway. It was deep at some parts, then it got shallow. The tunnel would widen and get taller, then shrink again so we had to crouch to get through. There were small holes along the sides where water could drain in from smaller ditches. There were also plenty of spiders and bugs.

And after what seemed like miles, we found a drainage grate above us that led back to the outside world. So we slowly pushed the grate open, expecting to be at the other end of town. But we came up in somebody's yard about two blocks away from where we had started. Somewhat disappointed in the short distance we had actually traveled, we climbed out into the yard, replaced the grate, and walked back home. That was the last time we adventured in those tunnels.

Bicycle Chicken

Harry and I were in our early teens. We rode our bikes everywhere. We loved trying new bicycle stunts. And one day we had an idea.

The idea was this: we would ride our bikes towards each other at high speed and at the last minute we would both jump off to safety while the bikes collided in a spectacular fireless explosion. It could possibly be the coolest bike stunt we had ever attempted.

The picture above is the road where we did this stunt (and many others). This is the view from where Harry started. I started in the center of the picture at the intersection by the stop sign. The collision point was in the middle of the street about even with the light brown telephone pole on the left side of the picture.

So we got in our starting positions. We pointed out bikes at each other. We both signaled we were ready. The adrenaline started pumping. And then we both started. We rode faster and faster. The distance between our front tires was getting shorter and shorter. This would take precision timing like never before, but we were 'experts'. Having both waited as long as possible, it was time. We both threw a leg over the center bar and at the very last second we jumped.

I can imagine what Jill, my younger sister, was thinking as she stood in our yard (on the right side of the picture) and watched. It was probably along the lines of "Should I call an ambulance?"

Of this, one of our biggest stunts to date, we had planned every aspect except one: which side of the bikes each of us would jump off. For as the bikes barreled towards each other and we jumped, we had both picked the same side. So as the bikes collided on the street, we collided in the air, and what resulted was a heap of twisted metal and stunt man flesh. After untangling from the carnage, we did both walk away from it. Again, we somehow escaped serious injury. And it was the last time we attempted that stunt.

Our Titanic

Not far from our town are the strip pits. These are deep holes that the coal mine dug out and have since filled with water. They are considered very dangerous because of their depth. And there have been a few people drown in them over the years.

So with that background on the strip pits, let us begin today's story. Harry and I went out to the strip pits with a friend. We had an inflatable raft with us. It was time to take our adventures to the water.

We arrived, inflated the raft, and headed out with paddles. Now I am not one that loves water. I might be able to swim if my life depended on it, but I don't plan on ever putting that to the test. But on that day I almost did.

We had paddled quite a ways out into the muddy waters and had just settled in for a little relaxation. Then we heard the ~hiss~ sound that one does not want to hear while in the middle of a deep, dirty lake on an inflatable raft. Somehow the raft sprung a leak. We tried to paddle to the shore but we did not get far. The raft quickly took on water and before we knew it the raft was riding on us. I cannot remember if I had a life-vest on or not, but I know I was hanging on to that deflating raft for dear life.

Eventually all three of us made it back to the shore. Our aquatic adventures were over for the day. We dried off as best we could and headed back home.

You'll Shoot Your Door Out

We loved our bikes. We also loved our guns.

Our town had an area set aside to store large piles of rock. The 'rock piles' were right behind my house. They were also near the Township Building, a community hall. And the back doors of the Township Building were made entirely of glass.

One day when Harry and I were in our early teens, we were with a friend playing Army at the rock piles with our guns (either BB or pellet). At the time there were also large metal drainage pipes being stored there, so we were running and hiding behind the pipes and the rock piles, "attacking" the invisible enemies with our guns. Suddenly during one of our attacks, we heard a 'ping' and one of the back doors of the Township Building instantly spider-webbed. The door had been shot.

We immediately went home and disposed of the guns. Within a few days I noticed the shattered door had been taped up, presumably to hold the glass in place. And eventually it was replaced with a new door. This was one of our big secrets for a long time.

These are the back doors of the Township Building in June of 2008.

Young Houdinis

When I was 12 or 13, I spent a week during summer break in St. Louis at Harry's house. We could really come up with some mischievous activities when left alone all day while his parents were at work. And we were really into bicycle stunts (or any kind of stunt really). We had too much Bo and Luke Duke in us.

One day we had an idea for a great bike stunt. He had a bicycle chain with a three-number combination lock on it. So he would wrap the chain around my body several times and lock it with my arms pinned down at my sides. Then I would lie across the sidewalk. He would ride his bike to the end of the block and on "Go" he would ride his bike towards me while I was trying to get the combination lock open and out of the way of his speeding bike. Then we would switch roles. I would ride the bike and he would have to escape. We took turns doing this for a while.

We were able to escape most of the time. But there were a couple of times that we didn't and small entanglements of bike and kid resulted from it. But neither of us were seriously injured and it sure was fun.

Introduction

I have tried several times to start writing down memories so they will not be forgotten. There are probably some things that I remembered 10-15 years ago that I do not remember now. In another 10-15 years there will probably be many things I do not remember that I do remember now. So this blog will be my attempt to record what memories I do remember now so they will not be forgotten.

So how do I organize something this big? I have 36 years of memories I want to record. Do I organize them by city (where I lived at the time or where the memory took place) or by time period (when I was in grade school or high school or when I was 3 or 25) or by people associated with the memory? I'm not sure yet.

But to get things started, there is an easy category to write about. One that will have many entries. One that should be interesting to read. And one that may surprise people that it's me I am writing about. I am talking about the adventures and dangers I have experienced with my cousin, Harry.

How were we never arrested? How were we never hospitalized? How afraid am I that my son will follow in my footsteps? Very!

Check back every Monday and Friday for the latest memories. . .