ABOUT THE AGE OF TEN I developed an interest in testing the laws of physics. How fast could I cycle, I wondered on this particular summer day, if I started from the top of Cooper Hill Road and pedaled down as fast as my feet and legs would pump? Cooper Hill, a quiet, tree-lined street, ended at Main Street, and I wondered what kind of thrill would I get making the right turn onto Casino Ave. at top speed — whatever that speed was. Cooper Hill wasn’t steep, but it was a constant downgrade that encouraged speed.
About fifty yards from Casino I got my first physics lesson: bikes and other things on wheels don’t make 90-degree turns at high speed. In fact, I was too far to the right to make any turn at all. The best I could hope for was a soft landing into the door of the Trinques garage across Casino Ave.. Then a terrifying thought occurred: What if a car were coming along Casino? (Talk about poor planning.) I went speeding through the intersection heading straight for the garage door that seemed to rush up to me, but before I reached it, I went flying. My experiment with physics ended when the front wheel careened off an immovable object — the curb. I don’t know who helped me, but the next thing I recall was sitting on a porch back up on Main Street, being attended to by Alan Smith’s mom, who I believe was a nurse.
On balance, I think that was probably the dumbest thing I ever did as a kid. Fortunately, I survived that near catastrophe, and thus was able to go on to do other notably brainless acts. For example:
Eavesdropping. When I was about eight our phone service was part of a party line we shared with two other families. One day I decided to eavesdrop on Mrs. Misunas Can you believe that? Actually, listening in wasn’t the dumb thing. But when she told her friend, “I think that Barber kid is listening,” I blurted out, “I am not!”
Trying to practice golf in the back yard using a baseball bat because I had no golf club. My first shot went right off the side of the bat and would have gone directly through the kitchen door window had not another object intervened. That object was my oldest brother George, who came out the back door and got nailed square on the forehead. As soon as he realized what had happened, he took off after me. I headed out back, and up Cooper Hill. George gave up the chase quickly, but I put a half-mile between us before I slowed down. I don’t remember where I went after that, but it was dark before I dared to go home again.
