Killer the Go Cart

I was a bit of a thrill seeker when I was growing up and as a result I wound up with a number of broken arms, wrists, and thankfully no broken lower extremities.  One of the most unusual and unlikely ways I managed to break my left and right arms when I was a young whipper snapper, is one that will always be the most memorable one.  The day I was embarrassed by a killer GoCart.

One day we had this traditional looking go cart.  It had a plywood bottom, a seat built of more plywood (it looked more like a stair step to me) and the wheels were your typical wagon wheels, you know the kind, the Radio Flyers that dominated the toy wagon era. 

The steering mechanism was rope looped around the front wheels which the driver would hold on to as the cart was released and began it's descent down whatever hill could be found at the time.  On this particular day it was our driveway that was really quite steep so the cart could gather up some good speed. 

Well can you guess who the driver was?  You don't really need to guess but hey it's always fun to do it.  No it was not my brother, he was holding onto the cart.  So I grabbed the reins, the go cart was released and the jalopy began it's descent down our drive way.  "Oh boy I'm driving", I thought in my little pea brain.

Now driving was not my skill, after all I was only a waif of a kiddo and was more often than not recovering from another broken arm, or illness that kept me inside for weeks on end.  So here I was moving down this hill which looked like a mountain from my perspective.

I was thinking I would start my turn to wind up on the sidewalk rather than in the street so here I pulled with all my might to the right on the wheels.  Well the momentum and sudden right turn resulted in me flipping out of the cart and landing in front of it, just in time for the wheel to run over my wrist.  Because of the weight of the cart, when it rolled over my wrist it went SNAP like a twig and once again my left wrist went limp, the swelling began immediately,  and I knew I'd have to tell my mom that I broke my arm again.

One trip to the hospital later and I never knew what happened to that Killer Go Cart.  It's as if it disappeared and suddenly we had our Radio Flyer back and rolling.  I suspect, but will never know for sure, that it was quickly disassembled by the brother who built good ole Killer Go Cart, maybe to destroy the evidence of the accident scene.  It had such a short life span that it was never really given a name.  How about if we call it "Killer?"  That's kind of catchy isn't it? 
 
I will always remember the day I was flipped and over-ridden by Killer the Go Cart as the most embarrassing moment in my history of broken appendages.  Were there more time another tale of a snowy day, a fence, a backyard, and a garden hoe would have to be classed as the oddest way I broke an arm.  But alack and alas this tale is spun and to the end we must now draw.