The Flexy Racer

                                                                                              

By Patrick Flanagan

 

He was only five years old, about 3 feet tall, so that to him, small hills looked like large mountains to climb.  Or race down.  Burbank School in East Oakland had just finished with the customary bell ringing and Pat was free from kindergarden for the rest of the day.  Now all he had to do was wait until mom showed up in the car to pick him up and go home.  Slowly the rest of the kids made their way through the open gates from the school ground also on their way home.  Within a few minutes, the playground was pretty much empty except for Pat and a kid he didn’t know carrying what looked like a wooden sled.  Except that it had wheels instead of runners.

Pat went up to the kid and asked him, “What is that thing?”, and the kid responded, “It’s a flexy, a sled for when there isn’t any snow.  I’ll  show you.”  Then the kid placed the flexy on the ground, started to take off on a short run,  laid down on the slats of wood and started riding across the school ground.  It truly was a sled for the summertime.  Then the kid rode back to where Pat was, obviously proud of his flexy.

“We call that ‘belly flopping.’” the kid said.  Pat looked more closely at the flexy.  It rode on plastic tires, had a steel spring for a bumper and rubber handle bars which could be used for steering and also for braking.  On the slats of wood was imprinted a very patriotic logo clearly indicating that the flexy was made in the U.S.A.  “It’s a model 300,” the kid proudly stated, “the newest one out.”

Clearly Pat was envious.  Belly flopping looked like a lot of fun.  Then he asked the kid if he could try it.  With a bit of hesitancy, the kid agreed.  Pat looked around and said, “Watch this!”  He then picked up the flexy and started to walk toward the only one hill on the playground.  It wasn’t a huge hill, just really a kind of slope upward to the classrooms but Pat knew this was going to be quite a ride.

He got to the top of the hill and looked down at his new friend.  Placing the flexy down, Pat laid down on the wooden slats, holding the flexy still with his little feet dug into the asphalt, his hands on the steering bars.  And then he let go.  Almost immediately the flexy started down the hill.  It all happened in seconds.  The flexy was picking up speed quickly and Pat got a bit worried about what he had taken on.  He tried to slow the flexy with the brakes but the inertia was just too great.  So much for the brakes as the flexy continued to pick up speed.  The brakes didn’t work.  The asphalt was covered with a lot of small rocks and the flexy started to ride over them and Pat quickly found out now where the “flopping” came from,  only this was more like belly bumping.  In an instant, Pat started to realize that maybe he had taken on too big of a hill and fear started to creep into his prone body as the ground whizzed by quicker and quicker.  Again, trying the brakes but it was to no avail as the sled continued to pick up speed.

By now, Pat was thinking to himself, this wasn’t a good idea as panic started to set in.  He could see his new found friend on the flat asphalt ahead, watching in amazement at just how fast the flexy could really go.  Pat knew he was in trouble.  And then it got worse.

 

There was nothing else to do but try to turn the flexy, hoping that maybe this would slow it down.  Wrong, as Pat turned the steering handles to the right.  The flexy lost total control and flipped up and over, throwing Pat off the wooden slats.  And now Pat was rolling down the hill on his own.  He could feel the small asphalt rocks digging into his face and arms like little needles pricking him all over as the flexy continued to roll also down the hill.  And then everything came to a dead stop as Pat’s new friend ran over to him.  Clearly Pat was shaken as he tried to stand up.

Being only five, he had never seen blood before and both his face and arms started to bleed from all the small pebbles stuck in his face and arms.  There was nothing left to do but cry as he kind of started to wander on the asphalt paving in a mild state of shock.  He wasn’t crying loud as he knew that could be embarrassing, but he didn’t know what else to do.  His face and arms were burning and bleeding now and where was his mom?  He knew he needed help and was in trouble.  Crying usually brought help.

In a daze, he started walking toward the school gate where his mother  picked him up after school; by now tears were flowing down his face.  Mom’s car still wasn’t there and a new kind of panic started to set in.  He felt so alone and helpless.

On the other side of the chain link fence there was still no car where his mom always parked.  He started crying a bit louder as the burning sensation from the asphalt pebbles started to now hurt.  And then an angel appeared.  In the house that was right next to the chain link gate, a small little girl came down the porch to see who was crying.  She came up to Pat and took his hand to lead him over to her porch, and then told him to “Sit here for a second and I’ll be right back.”  Pat was feeling a bit more at ease as his sobs slowly diminished.    She wasn’t mom but she did seem to know what to do.

Soon she came back with a damp wash cloth and started to slowly wipe away the blood on Pat’s face and remove the small black pebbles.  It still hurt but not as much.  She was very gentle and asked, “Does this hurt?” as she carefully cleaned Pat up.  After she was through, she said, “This wil make it feel better and be all right,” as she then gave Pat a small kiss on his cheek.  It did make things a lot better, that kiss.  All of a sudden, Pat was a man again and stopped his crying with a broad smile.

It was right about then that Pat’s mom drove up and life was looking a lot better.  She immediately knew that something was wrong as she rushed to the porch from the car.  Deep in Pat’s heart, he knew now that his experience with the Flexy Racer Model 300 was coming to an end.  In his defence, he boldly told his mom, “Mom, you won’t believe what happened to me today.  I got my first kiss from a girl!”  As if all those small cuts and scratches no longer even existed.

Addendum:  About sixty years later, Pat went back to see his old kindergarden school.  It was still there with its hill which now looked very small to a grown man.  The school now was a neighborhood center for the blacks which now lived there and the little girl’s house still was there just as he remembered it.  Today it is a tough area of Oakland and a black man was sitting on the very same porch where the little girl had been so kind to Pat.  It was clear that white people no longer were welcome in this neighborhood as the man got up in kind of a threatening stance. 

In defense, Pat said to the man, “Did you know that your porch is the place where I got my first kiss from a girl and I just came back to make sure it was still here.”  The man’s disposition immediately changed with a smile as Pat then went on to tell him the story about the Flexy Racer.  At the end, the man then replied, “You can come back anytime and sit on my porch anytime you want.”  The man had never heard of a Flexy Racer but he did know how important that first kiss was to a young boy.