It’s inevitable that every Christmas, while wrapping gifts or tearing them open, you reminisce about gifts you got as a child. This year, for me, it was the Big Wheel.
The Big Wheel was an orange, red and I want to say…blue, plastic tricycle. It was the first “vehicle” that I owned. My first little bit of freedom, a cool way to go down the sidewalk. Not like the lame, bike with training wheels or holding your mommies hand way.
The best part was skidding. You get up a full head of steam, pick a driveway of somebody you didn’t like, and slam that front wheel sideways as hard as you can. If you left a nice black mark and got the old man in the house to glare at you from his front window, you’ve done your job.
I thought I was pretty damn cool with my Big Wheel—but then came the Green Machine. It was bigger and had a hand brake and well…it was green. It seemed like the most expensive piece of equipment ever engineered.
It was the bike for the “elite” neighborhood kid, who was better known as the asshole or “poop-head” of the block. Or the kid compensating for a small penis even though he didn’t know about the whole big penis envy thing yet. It’s now called “Humvieitis”.
Even after I learned how to ride a bike, I still rode my Big Wheel more often times than not. One of the last memories I have of my Big Wheeler was riding it when I was probably fifty pounds over the recommended weight for a rider. So basically it was last year.
I guess I would say that the Big Wheel was the greatest toy of the seventies, if not OF ALL TIME! Wait, Electric Football came out then didn’t it?