The Flying Darts

When I was kid, I was awesome. Here's a list of awesome things I did:
-Jumped off the house into a pile of leaves
-Jumped off the house with a garbage bag as a parachute
-Jumped off the top of my swing set with a garbage bag as a parachute
-Jumped off the top of my swing set with a kite as a hang glider
-Jumped off the house on to an old mattress
-Jumped out of my tree house
-Jumped out of my other tree house
Come to think of it, shouldn't my parents have been, you know, parenting? Just imagine this and tell me you wouldn't be moved to respond in some way.
You're sitting in the living room watching television when suddenly the blurry silhouette of an eight-year-old blasts straight down past your curtains followed by a sickening thud. Five minutes later it happens again. I don't know. I guess you get used to it after a while, kinda like the noise of living next to train tracks. Oh yeah...
-Jumped out of the way of a speeding train with mere yards to spare
Yep, my childhood was pretty much one long public service commercial illustrating why certain kids should not be allowed to watch certain shows. My favorite show? "The Fall Guy" of course. It was a weekly program in which a stunt man would solve mysteries and thwart kidnappings by jumping off some things and running into other things with Pontiac Firebirds. It was phenomenal.
Here's an idea. They should hire stunt men for positions in law enforcement. Follow me here--I'm robbing a liquor store and a couple of cops stroll in real nonchalant. And then, like he's bored, the one cop mentions, "My partner here wants you to put your hands in the air." Then his partner breaks a chair over his own head. I turn to run and the same guy sets himself on fire. I'm coming along quietly. Ya know what I mean?
So my point is this. I loved the idea of being a stuntman. That's why I had zero trouble agreeing to my big brother's idea. He wanted to form a precision stunt team consisting of just him and me. I'm pretty sure it was a scheme he came up with to get me to stand still while he beat me up but I jumped at the idea and "The Flying Darts!®" dare devil extravaganza was born. We were going to do high-flying stunt shows with fights, falls, breaking glass, the works. Sadly, we never got around to all that stuff because we decided to create and develop the finale first. It was beautiful in its simplicity. My brother would jump on his bike and ride to the end of the street. I would jump on my bike and ride to the other end of the street. We would then pedal as hard as we could toward each other. (Here's where you get involved.) Right when we were about to collide we would:
(A) Swerve in opposite directions to narrowly and thrillingly avoid a horrifying head on collision
(B) Slam on the breaks and bump front wheels together
(C) Jump off our bikes and roll safely onto the grass
(D) Nothing. Just slam bike-to-bike, face-to-face in a horrifying head on collision.
If you chose 'D', you're a winner.
It must have been quite a sight for the neighbors. Not that they weren't used to being treated to "quite a sight" pretty much every time I came home from school. I use to ride around the neighborhood on my metallic red Schwinn Stingray.

See that sissy-bar sticking up from the back of the seat? That's where I would tie the strings that were attached to a folded paper bag that I would sit on. When I stood up, the wind would catch the bag and it would pop out like a drag racer's parachute. Not cool enough for ya? How about this? I would ride around with a McDonald's French fry box on my head like a hat. Again, awesome. (And no, I am not kidding)
It was a quality stunt we had going there. Sure, there was a little blood and it took a while to untangle ourselves after each "performance", but it was a big hit with the other kids in the neighborhood (sadistic little bastards).
Sadly, after three or four "shows" one of the neighbors went over to our house and knocked on the door. She spoke briefly to my mother who immediately came over to where we were pulling my arm out of my brother's spokes and did a little parenting. "The Flying Darts!®" was immediately dissolved and its members placed under strict orders not to develop another stunt-themed exhibition. She even took away my bike and my French fry hat for two whole weeks. Man, that's like cutting Samson's hair. I suppose I should at least be happy that she took an interest in our hobby. You know? As soon as it gets light outside, I think I'm gonna jump off the house just for old time's sake.