My Very First Car

In a previous post I'd reported that a 1951 Anglia was my first car. To be more specific, it was my first MOTORIZED car, the pedal car in my illustration holds the honour of being "My Very First Car."

I was four years old when this car came into my life. Even though I was restricted to the length of the sidewalk in front of our house on Marshall Street, which was only one block long, it was enough. I was thrilled to be mobile! Several times a day I'd set out for a drive to see the sights.

How Does a Pedal Car Work?
The back axle resembles a two cylinder engine's crankshaft. Two connecting rods are attached to the axle and run forward to two pedals hung from pivots on the underside of the hood. You put your feet on the pedals and push. As one pedal goes forward the other went back, a natural walking motion that is easy to learn. But like most things that initially appear simple, there's always more to it. The hard part is figuring out which pedal to push FIRST to go forward. It could be either one, depending on where that crankshaft shaped rear axle was positioned – what I did, was to push gently on one pedal and see if the car went in the direction I wanted. If it did, then I'd push hard on that pedal and away you went. If the gentle push moved the car opposite to the desired direction, you pushed the other pedal to go. It was also important that you never "parked" with one pedal all the way back and the other all the way forward. That put the crankshaft in a flat position and consequently you could not  move the car with the pedals. But since the car had no floor, you could "Fred Flintstone" it a few inches, pop your feet back on the pedals and off you went.  

Little Ricky's Big Adventure
A year later we moved to Okanagan Boulevard to be closer to the site of the new house that Pop was building at Poplar Point. I often went to the new house with Pop where my job was to carry nails for him and the carpenter he'd hired to run the framing of the house. I was paid 25 cents a day for this very important job.
One day, Pop went to work on the house and forgot to take me. I didn't want to miss a day of work, so I decided to drive MY car to the new house. I knew the way, and it was only two kilometres. Two hours later, when I pulled into the driveway at the new house, I couldn't understand what all the fuss was about.

The End Of The Car
As I got older, I got bigger. I no longer could fit my legs inside the car. No problem, I'd just sit in the seat and put my legs around the steering wheel and cross my ankles on the hood. Did I mention Poplar Point Drive was a nice winding unpaved hill, great for coasting down in a pedal car? One day Johnny, the kid who lived across the street, talked me into letting him drive the car. He had seen how I finished off the ride by doing a big sliding turn onto a driveway near the bottom of the hill.
So here comes Johnny roaring down the hill in my car. He was bigger and heavier than me, consequently he was going MUCH faster than I ever did. I realized it was way too fast to make the corner. "Drag your feet Johnny!" I yelled as he zoomed past, giving me a bewildered wild-eyed look. Johnny cranked the wheel hard right, but car turned only the slightest bit (today we'd call that classic understeer). The far side of the driveway had about a seven foot drop into thick bush. Johnny and my car parted ways as they sailed off that embankment. The car landed on its side and moments later, Johnny hit with his beefiest part right on top of it. The car was flattened and Johnny couldn't sit down for two weeks!