Illustration by Neal Stepp

Reed's Ride

by Rosemarie Riley

Reed stared at the blue wooden box with four black rubber wheels.

"What is it?"

"It's what we used to call a billy cart when I was your age," said his dad. "I had lots of fun in it."

"You did?" Reed kicked the front wheels with his sneaker. How could someone have fun in a box on wheels? he thought.

"Check this out," his dad said, moving to the back of the cart.

Reed followed his dad. There on a black shiny plate he read the words "Reed's Car". But I wanted a real car for my seventh birthday, Reed said to himself. Not this box on wheels. "But Dad..."

"Put this on," interrupted his dad, handing Reed a black shiny helmet. His dad chuckled and pointed to the front of the cart. "Then take it for a spin."

With the helmet securely fastened on his head, Reed stepped into the cart. "But, Dad, how can I drive this? There's no steering wheel," Reed said, his voice muffled behind the helmet.

His dad chuckled and pointed to the front of the cart. "Put your fingers through that rope and pull."

Reed followed his dad's gaze and noticed a piece of rope knotted through holes at either end of the cross bar extending out from the front of the cart. He pulled the rope to the left. The small wheels on the crossbar turned to the left. He tugged to the right and the wheels turned to the right. He looked down at the wooden floor then back at his dad. "Where's the brake?"

"There it is," said his dad, pointing to a wooden stick. He leaned into the cart and squeezed a black rubber bulb on the end of a silver trumpet.

"Toot, Toot."

Reed jumped. "That's the horn?"

"Sure is, son."

Reed slid his body forward so he could place his feet on the horizontal bar. I hope my friends don't see me in this, he thought. Then he remembered the helmet and smiled. The next minute his dad gave the cart a shove. It rolled down the driveway picking up speed with each turn of the wheel. Reed pulled the rope to the left then to the right, dodging the bushes lining one side of the drive and the newly mowed lawn on the other. "Hey, Dad, shut the gate!" Before his dad could move, Reed and the cart slid out and onto the sidewalk. "I wish this were a real steering wheels," he muttered, pulling on the rope.

"Hi, Mr. Jenkins," Reed called and tooted. Mr. Jenkins dropped his pipe in astonishment. Reed giggled. Then he spotted Freckles, a tabby cat, sitting on a fence post. He squeezed the horn. Startled, Freckles fell and landed right in his lap. Her claws found his bare leg below his shorts. "Ouch!" yelled Reed.

The cart rumbled, bumpity, bump, down the sidewalk, its wheels turning faster and faster.

As Reed passed Mr. Blackwood's house, Skipper, a German shepherd, dashed toward the fence. "Woof, woof," barked Skipper and leapt into the air. Reed heard a thud. He turned around. Skipper sat right behind him in the space in the cart. And some distance back he saw his dad running after the cart.

"Meow, meow," cried Freckles and dug her claws further into Reed's skin.

"Ouch!" Reed shrieked and noticed Mrs. Taylor, the minister's wife, on the sidewalk. Reed tooted the horn and grabbed the brake, but the stick jammed.

"If this were a car, the brake would work," he said, giving it another tug.

"Woof, woof," barked Skipper.

"Meow, meow," cried Freckles.

"Ouch!" shrieked Reed.

But it was too late.

"Oh my!" said Mrs. Taylor. She landed, legs sprawled out and hat askew, right on top of Freckles.

The cart rumbled bumpity, bump, bump toward the corner. Reed spotted three boys on bikes. As he got closer, a sinking feeling rose in the pit of his stomach. He slouched down in the seat, hoping Paul, Cody and Aaron wouldn't recognize him.

"Hey, you, stop!" a voice called.

Reed cringed and slid down in his seat. If he spoke, they'd know it was him.

"Woof, woof," barked Skipper.

"Meow, meow," cried Freckles.

"Ouch!" shrieked Reed.

"Oh my!" said Mrs. Taylor, still clutching her hat.

The cart rumbled on. The next minute, Reed gasped. His friends were pedaling alongside the cart.

"Hey, you, stop this thing!" Paul yelled.

"I can't! The brake's stuck!"

"Is that you, Reed?" Cody called.

Just then Reed spotted old Ned piling packaged bread and rolls into a plastic tray from a delivery van. But it was too late! The billy cart skidded by. Loaves of bread and buns flew into the air.

"Woof, wo..." A bread roll shot into Skipper's mouth.

"Meow, meow," cried Freckles.

"Oh my!" said Mrs. Taylor, as a packet of bread landed in her lap.

"Hey, watch out!" Reed heard the boys call. He glanced over his shoulder. Bread rolls rolled right in front of their bikes. Two minutes later Reed noticed Green's grocery store in his path. As an old lady opened the door, the billy cart jumped the curb and swooshed past her. Straight ahead stood a pyramid of watermelons on a stand.

"Oh no..." muttered Reed as the cart crashed into the stand. Watermelons flew into the air; some squashed onto the polished floor with a loud SPLAT! Others collided with cans on nearby shelves. The cans fell to the floor with a CLUNK! Then they rattled and rolled down the aisle.

Freckles leapt out and dashed down the soup aisle.

"Woof, woof," barked Skipper leaping out of the cart in pursuit. Mrs. Taylor stood up. She straightened her hat. "I can do my grocery shopping," she said and marched off down the cereal aisle. Reed heard a noise behind him. He turned. His dad, puffing and panting entered the store. Paul, Cody and Aaron followed behind.

"Are you all right?" Cody called out.

Reed lifted off his helmet and nodded.

"Can we have a go?" asked Paul.

"Yes, we want a go, too," Cody and Aaron chorused.

Reed looked at his three friends.

"You mean you want a ride in this?"

The three boys grinned. "Could we? It looks fun." Reed grinned.

"My dad gave it to me for my birthday. Isn't it great!"

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