Friday Flashback- Dad's Cushman

When I was little, we lived in a little house, on a quiet street, in a quiet town. My parents planted a tree in the front yard in honor of me. It's quite large now. There was a huge stone wall on the side of the house that my sister and I used to jump off. The funny thing is that when I drive by that house now, I am struck by the fact that the wall is only about a foot and a half tall.

Perspective.

There was a bush in the back yard that we discovered was sometimes covered in ladybugs. Not the nasty ladybugs, the real ones, the red ones, the nice ones. We had a swingset, the one I broke my arm on, and a row of bushes lined the back of our yard. It was wonderful. It was quiet.

But my dad had a Cushman. We called it The Cushman.

Isn't that GREAT? I'm not sure if that is the exact model, but it's similar to how I remember it. I'm sure Mom has pictures of it somewhere. Dad would pile me and my sister on that thing, one of us behind him, wrapping our arms around his waist, the other standing between his knees, holding onto the handlebars, and he gave us rides around the yard and down our street. We just loved it. The red shiny paint, the black vinyl seats, it was so cool. At some point Dad sold it. I think he wishes he hadn't. Now my kids love to go to Grandpa and Grandma's big house in the country, outside of that same little town. Only it's not so quiet now. When their grandchildren are there, the yard is full of kids zooming around on the go-cart, and the moped laughing and squealing and beeping the horn. But neither the go-cart or the moped compare to the original, The Cushman. It is the father of all scooters. Happy Father's Day to my Dad and his love of all things fun.