Little Big Wheels

It’s not a stretch to say the little Big Wheels saved my sanity as a young mother. The second Kelly and Ruth, my three- and two-year-old daughters, took possession of the handle bars of their little Big Wheels, a new-found babysitter inhabited our household.

Meanwhile, Becky, my firstborn, found her fun pumping the pedals of her new, shiny blue two-wheeler. Up and down the sidewalk on Cummings Street she flew, much like myself as a girl, racing to beat the band.

Oh yes, I sat on our front porch to grant my carbon-copy smile of approval as she passed by our house. Her little sisters followed, the plastic “ride ’em” Big Wheels loud and clear. Thank goodness the cost of three bikes fit into our family budget.
The girls raced up and down the sidewalk until snow fell. Then, I carried the Big Wheels and Becky’s bike into our basement.

Day after day, hour after hour, Becky led the pack around the basement steps while her younger sisters followed. Meanwhile, I washed clothes and dishes, made beds and meals, and cleaned house. All was well when I heard the Big Wheels rounding the steps.

With its design close to the pavement, never did I have to bandage a scrape from a Big Wheels wreck, unlike the time I crashed on my bike at twelve-years-old and ran home screaming bloody murder, as my mother would say.

Nevertheless, when my injuries healed, I hit the kickstand up and pumped full speed ahead.

One summer day as a teenager, I disobeyed my mother and left our block to see how fast I could ride my bike just over a mile to my friend’s house and back. Thankfully, I survived crossing Ten Mile Road twice without incident.

Indeed, I worked my angels overtime that day.

Speaking of angels watching over us, my baby, Ruth, whose 48th birthday is November 13, still takes a steering wheel gleefully, tests the speed limit.

She’s a natural at road trips, just like my father who drove from Michigan to Kentucky non-stop. Ruth takes the challenge further with cross-country adventures from Michigan to Kelly’s home in California’s Bay Area.

Not just once, but three times this year with her black lab, Lily. Ticking off states from Michigan to California seems to be one of her favorite pastimes.

Since Ruth returned to California this fall for an opportunity of a lifetime, we won’t be celebrating her birthday or Thanksgiving Day together. Therefore, this morning I thumbed through some family photos to reminisce her growth.

There, in the little green album I’ve preserved over fifty years now, I found one of my favorite “Ruthie” photos.
Two-years old, she possesses chubby cheeks and her trademark mischievous smile. She grips the handlebars of her little Big Wheels with feet to the pedals.

Always raring go to.

Dear Reader, we never know what will influence our path throughout our lifetime. It’s sweet to consider something as playful as riding little Big Wheels could influence Ruth’s future.

It’s not a stretch to say the Louis Marx and Co. created not only my built-in-babysitter, but a sense of adventure within my children.

Contact Iris at irisfarmletters@gmail.com