Pedal cars

 Up and down the driveway, I would drive my pedal car that I received for Christmas. Under my mom's watchful eye and loving glance, I was a fireman in my fire engine, complete with a red fire helmet and a working siren powered by batteries. Later, I learned that Dad had hidden the batteries from me so he could read his morning paper without listening to the siren. At the time, I didn’t find it funny.

One day, while I was playing with my fire truck, my buddy from a few doors down showed up in his Christmas present: a brand new pedal tractor. It was a real beauty, even equipped with a plow on the front that he could lift and dump snow, dirt, or whatever he desired. We spent hours in our machines, and one day, while we were playing, we heard a noise rumbling down the sidewalk. Pulling into my driveway was another neighborhood boy on his pedal car—a true Bigfoot!

The tractor plowed a hill of snow, dumping it as high as he could, and Bigfoot climbed up and over the pile to everyone's delight. Just for fun, we tipped Bigfoot on its side, pretending it had caught fire. My fire truck rushed over, and I pretended to put out the flames. The three of us had a blast, but then we heard a rumbling sound moving slowly around the bend that sent chills down our spines. It was an army tank pedal machine, equipped with treads for rough terrain and a long barrel that shot plastic shells. The kid inside, another neighbor, was hunkered down in his tank with only his helmeted head visible. He maneuvered the tank with a stick, allowing him to go in any direction he wanted. It was an impressive tank, for sure.

Now, with four machines zooming up and down the driveway, we imagined countless scenarios, like the tractor plowing my fire truck into a snowbank or Bigfoot running over the tractor. Meanwhile, the tank watched for its next move, climbing right over my fire truck and causing some damage to it while I tried to escape from the treads rolling over me—but I lived to tell the tale.

Just when we thought we were the only kids on the block with pedal cars, another kid showed up in his ambulance pedal car, blasting various sirens from several sounds he controlled on a panel inside the dashboard. It didn't take long for the ambulance to be called into action as more and more wrecks were staged, allowing him to come to the rescue. And just like that, we were five.

Like most toys, our pedal cars were eventually parked in the garage and replaced with bicycles, scooters, and skateboards. The five of us remained friends throughout our school years, all eventually getting our driver’s licenses and storing our bikes, scooters, and skateboards in our garages for our younger siblings to enjoy. Looking back, the memories stay with me as new ones are made watching my son in his pedal car, a brand new Lexus. Who would have ever believed that?

Mike 2025