Big Wheel Days
Ah yes… the original muscle car of the suburban streets. Before driver’s licenses and horsepower… before our parents had any idea where we actually were… there was the Big Wheel.
Every neighborhood had that one kid who got it first, and instantly became a celebrity. The rest of us would be like, “Cool… mind if I try it for 3 hours straight?” And when you finally got your own it was Game over. You now had a low-slung plastic chariot of dominance.
We weren’t just riding. We were racing, drifting like Fast & Furious: Cul-de-Sac Edition. Handbrake “safety feature?” No way, it was a tool to lock up the rear wheels and slide sideways into Mrs. Donnelly’s mailbox like absolute legends.
We’ll never forget the sound… that glorious KRRRRRRRRRRRRRR as you peeled out down the driveway like you just launched off the starting line at Daytona. No helmets or pads. Just hair in the wind fun and a strong belief we were indestructible.
Those plastic rear wheels worn down flatter than a pancake after about a week of aggressive cornering. Didn’t matter, just made you faster, right up to that uncontrollable spinout of doom anyways.
Each outing ended the same way: One kid flipped it, one kid cried, another blamed the brakes. But, of course, we all went right back out to pound the pavement five minutes later.
1975 Big Wheel Commercial
Today’s kids have tablets. We had a plastic hot rod with a cool handbrake and zero adult supervision. Those were the days!
Steve
UNCONTROLLED SUBSTANCE 