Once upon a time, when Papa was just a little boy,
he loved to do dangerous things, sometimes just because they were such dangerous things to do (which he would learn, through time and much experience, was not the best reason to do things). Sometimes, because he was doing dangerous things, people around him were persuaded to do dangerous things they would not normally do. And sometimes these other people got hurt.
Probably one of the most dangerous locations in his boyhood was the ride down on an assortment of vehicles, speeding and screaming from the top to the bottom of the humongous monster hill on Avenue M, which was the scary hill on the way home from Grandma's house. Dougie rode his skateboard down this hill, achieving the speed of 35 miles per hour (on an old-fashioned skateboard with ball-bearing wheels) but he also rode a collection of bicycles down this hill, including Grandpa's old tandem bicycle (a helter skelter, hodge-podge pasting together of many old scrapped bicycles that Grandpa collected and stuck together with spit and chicken wire in a bicycle potpourri mess), sometimes riding the clunky old bicycle by himself, other times with his little sister Pammy on the rear seat, other times with a variety of friends.On one Sunday, Dougie, about ten years old, convinced his little sister Pammy, eight years old, that she ought to try riding her bicycle down the big hill instead of primly walking her bike down the mountain. Pammy did not wish to make the attempt. Very wisely, whenever they rode their bicycles home from Grandma and Grandpa's house, Pammy would dismount her little-girl-style bicycle (long "banana" seat and "fly" handlebars with a white wicker basket suspended on the front like a headlamp), and walk her bike down the hill. But Dougie convinced her that she was big enough to ride her bike down the hill, and if she grew afraid, all she had to do was stop pedaling and just coast down the hill. Easy, right?So first, try pedaling. It was easier to balance when you're pedaling. But if you get into any trouble..."Just stop pedaling," he told her."So pedal first, and then stop pedaling?" Pammy inquired, not projecting much confidence."It's easier to do it pedaling. So do that first, just pedal slowly. But if anything goes wrong, just stop pedaling, okay?"Finally, she agreed. She would make the attempt. Pammy would do something dangerous, just like her big brother Dougie.On a bicycle, even not pedaling, it was easy to achieve a speed of thirty miles per hour (Dougie later clocked various speeds with a variety of bicycle speedometers), and thirty miles per hour is very fast for an eight-year-old girl gripping fly handlebars trembling above 16-inch wheels.Pammy wanted her big brother to go first and she'd watch him, studying him carefully, noticing the placement of his feet, the way he leaned into the rushing wind, the particular wobble of his shoulders and the corresponding wibble in the bicycle tires. But she wanted Dougie to stop at the bottom, and wait for her. Watch her, that was his job anyway, to watch out for his baby sister, right? So he needed to ride to the bottom, dismount, and watch her progress down the hill for the first time mounted in the saddle, the wind streaming in her hair, and Dougie better offer lots and lots of advice and encouragement on her way down.So very soon Dougie was at the bottom of the looming monster of a hill, his blood slowly cooling after making his own dashing descent. He had to admit, even at the great old age of ten years, that ride was still exhilarating. It still seemed very, very dangerous. He had a shadow of doubt, and reconsidered Pammy's ride. Maybe he should call up to her? But come on, it was simple, she was beyond the age of walking down the hill, wasn't she, as a little old lady of eight years of age?"I don't wanna do it," Pammy called from the top of the hill, where she perched with one leg over her tiny bike.Dougie hesitated. Maybe he should agree and call it off."Oh go ahead, it's easy, you can do it!" he called up to her.It was very hot, in the middle of the hot desert summer, and heat waves rose off the road. Dougie checked for traffic. Avenue M merged with a side street, and the big hill terminated in a stop sign whereas the sidestreet had the right of way (which made the big hill doubly dangerous). But it was clear of traffic in all directions. But Pammy better not wait, or else another car would be coming soon."Come on, Pammy! Just pedal slowly!" the big brother called up to the little sister.And here she came, looking very nervous, yet resolute, her little hands gripping the handlebars, but she wasn't pedaling. Dougie was about to call up to her to pedal. Then she started pedaling. She picked up speed. And stopped pedaling. Then started pedaling. She was rocking back and forth, wobbling. Do one or the other, either pedal or don't pedal, Dougie wanted to call up to her, but stop switching back and forth! And now she stopped pedaling, and her little front wheel was really wobbling, and she was still picking up speed and was only halfway down the hill.This didn't look good. Dougie dropped his bike and started running back toward Pammy and imminent disaster.The bike was really wobbling and at its top speed now and Pammy jerked a few more pedals, and then took her hands off the handlebars altogether and closed her eyes as she wobbled sideways and went down, tumbling, sliding, grinding on the hot blacktop. And Dougie was running and shrieking: "Pammy!"She slid about twenty feet, and her bike kept going another thirty or so feet, and Dougie was at Pammy's side and helped her get up. She was shaking and worried, but wasn't crying, not yet.As he got her to his feet, he saw something you're not supposed to ever see on your baby sister. His eyes bugged out and she focused on his bugging eyes."What!" she screamed.Dougie reached up and put his hand to Pammy's throat. He closed the hole that was gaping there. It was odd, as there was no blood, just a big hole almost the size of a second mouth. It was impossible. It was too gruesome. Dougie felt like he was dreaming.And now here came a car down the big hill straight toward them."Wait here," Dougie told Pammy, and he let go of her throat and ran to the car. The oddest thing, really, is that Dougie, crippled introvert that he always was, actually approached a stranger and took command."Drive back up the hill to 4747 and tell my parents to come here, Pammy's hurt real bad!" Dougie commanded the strangers. There were about three strangers in the car, a young man and a young woman and another adult in the back seat, but they were all nodding, and the car did a three-point reverse turn and headed back up the hill while Dougie dashed back to Pammy and slapped his hand back over her throat."Is it real bad?" she breathed, her face very white."It's not very bad," Dougie lied, and he removed his hand, just a fraction, and now her throat was bleeding like crazy, and the gash seemed bigger than Pammy's mouth (and Dougie would usually make a joke about the size of Pammy's mouth, but now he was just thinking that he didn't want his little sister to die).It was true that normally Dougie was in a constant state of infuriation with his baby sister, she was always following him, copying him, curious as to what he was doing, and like little sisters the world over she was always telling on him. Pammy was almost an instant relay to Mama, it was almost supernatural. Sometimes Dougie got in trouble before he even commited his crime, so swift was the Pammy-to-Mama relay service.But Dougie loved Pammy. At times they were quite good friends, great comrades, and partners in both adventure and crime (when they shared crime was about the only time the Pammy-to-Mama global detective service was not operational).Dougie replaced his hand over the hole and held it close. He'd hold the blood in. It was at this moment, just prior to his replacing his hand, that Pammy finally was frightened, because she'd been watching her big brother's eyes as he surveyed the damage to her throat, and she realized her big brother was about to faint.And it was about this time, waiting for Mama and Dada to come, that Dougie first realized that he was going to get in serious trouble. This was all his fault. He had almost forced Pammy to ride her little bike down the monstrous Avenue M hill. There was no use trying to argue it, not even inside his own mind, he knew it was all his fault. There was no "almost," he had forced Pammy to ride when she only wanted to walk. And he didn't even care if he was going to get into trouble, he was just worried about Pammy, and wanted her to be okay.Dougie didn't know the word "surreal," but if he did, that's the exact word he would have extracted from his vocabulary, because it was a surreal moment, standing here at the bottom of the big hill. He rode this hill all the time. He'd already crashed his bike on this hill several times. But he'd never received a hole in his throat. That just didn't seem right, did it, for all his many crashes? He'd already crashed a motorcycle several times, his little Honda 50, and he'd never been seriously hurt (that particular crash was looming, however, probably only a year away in Dougie's future)."You're going to be okay," Dougie assured Pammy."You shouldn't have made me ride! I wanted to walk down the hill," Pammy said, for the first time tears appearing in her eyes."I'm sorry. I shouldn't have told you to ride," said Dougie, but then, early logician that he was, he couldn't help adding: "But you were supposed to either pedal or not pedal, not keep going back and forth like that! First you pedaled, and then you stopped, and then you pedaled, and then you stoppped, you made yourself start wobbling!"And then Pammy was really crying, and Dougie knew he should have just kept his mouth shut. But she kept valiantly clamping down on her tears. Perhaps the fear was stronger than the pain. After a moment, her tears dried, and she asked Dougie again, is it real bad?He put his left arm around her shoulders and continued to hold the hole closed with his right hand. He wouldn't tell her, but he thought it was worse than real bad.Then finally here came the little blue Pontiac LeMans, Pammy and Dougie recognized their family car at the same time, and just behind the blue car was Grandma and Grandpa's yellow GTO, whew, all was saved! Even Uncle Bob and Aunt Janie came piling out of Grandpa's car. And Mama and Dada were out of the car and bustling and carrying Pammy with concern, and then in a flurry they were dashing off to the hospital, and Dougie was left guiding both bicycles back up the big hill to Grandma and Grandpa's house.Poor Pammy had to get a numbing shot in her neck, and then about 15 minutes of scraping with a wire brush to remove gravel and asphalt from her throat, and the doctor pleasantly shined a flash light into the hole and displayed Pammy's jawbone for Mama and Dada who both nearly fainted. And finally came the stitches, all ten of them.And Pammy didn't cry, throughout the whole ordeal.The crazy thing was that Dougie never was punished for inciting the hazardous bicycle crash. He was even praised for holding Pammy's wound together and flagging down a complete stranger to get help (forever after Dougie would wonder about his commandeering of the strangers to help Pammy, that was probably more surrealistic than the hole in his sister's throat).Pammy still has the scar, although it has shrunken and faded and moved somewhat, and now is very difficult to see, hidding along her jawline, completely off of her neck.As an adult Pammy would become a nurse and heal and comfort nearly countless babies and children, serving more than 20 years at one hospital, in the pediatric ward.And Dougie would go on to crash and smash many more vehicles, even when he wasn't trying to be fast, dangerous, adventuresome and stupid.All Stories © 2009 Douglas Christian Larsen
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