Radio Flyer

I don't know of anyone whose childhood doesn't have at least one memory of riding in a Radio Flyer classic red wagon. I don't think my sister and I owned one, but someone we knew did. Not the most comfortable of rides and the inside was always filled with leaves and had rusty corners but who cared? My favorite way to ride was to turn the handle backwards and have someone push so I could steer. One running heave-ho down a sloping driveway could start anyone's heart pumping. The critical part was making that 90° turn onto the sidewalk before zooming onto the actual street where you risked being hit by a car. Most often, we'd tip over onto the grassy median screaming like a banshee and flush with the possibility of losing life and limb. Even with bloody, scraped palms and grass-stained elbows, we'd jump up and shout, "Again! Again!!" No way would any parent nowadays watch this with crossed arms from their porch and let it happen again and again, but these were different times. In fact, one of my favorite fall pastimes was watching my uncles burn leaves in the ditch in front of my grandparents' house and then taking turns with my cousins taking a flying leap through the fire and smoke. Terribly dangerous but oh, what fun! And now...Radio Flyer has gone high-tech. In keeping with today's safety demands, the 90-year old company has put in 5-pt harnesses and padded seats. There's also an iPod dock with speakers, cup holders and digital readouts on the handle so Mom can see what the temperature, time and distance is so they don't go too far or get too hot. Hmmm.



Sure is pretty, but this is a wagon for wusses. I guess the driveway zoom is out. And tipping over and scraping the side would be like...God forbid...drinking Grape Nehi in Mom's Lexus. No wonder kids are soft and fat today and whine when things aren't handed to them on a silver platter. It's my generation's fault, I suppose. Trying too hard to not be our parents. And I don't fault our parents for being irresponsible or careless either. They did the best they could with what they had. My generation, with our expensive educations and internet access, maybe overthinks things a bit to prove to ourselves that we're the best parents we can possibly be. Good intentions. But the thing is, we may not have always made that 90° turn, every time...and yes, blood was spilled and clothes were singed ...but we sure loved trying. And we learned that falling doesn't always mean failure and that sometimes, you have to jump into smoke without knowing if you'll make it through. Sometimes, growing up means having perpetual scabs on your elbows and singed-off eyebrows. Maybe, just maybe, the journey into adulthood wasn't meant to be pretty.