Trike Type
by Dan Klarmann, son

One Saturday in the summer of 1965, mom needed relief from this boisterous boy to have some peace with only the baby to care for, for a while. Pop volunteered to take me to the drug store. Not just to take me, but to walk me! Given my tiny legs, the plan was modified so that I could ride my tricycle. So, we get ready to go, and pop suddenly dashes off to the back of the house, and comes back with a coil of clothesline over his arm. As a 5 year old, I simply accepted that this accessory had something to do with what was needed at the store.
So we get on the road. It is a long ride, probably close to a mile. Imagine a bald, accented, waddling astrophysicist and a tiny blonde boy on a tricycle going down the nearly rural road of West St. Louis County in 1965. Yes, we stopped so I could say, “Hi” to the chickens at the farm on the end of our street.
Anyway, after Katz Drugs (I remember the big, neon cat sign on a pole by the road), my little legs protested. I’m sure I must have whined.
Then the magic happened. Pop took the rope off of his arm, tied one end to my handlebars, and the other to his belt. He explained the necessity of tucking my feet back over the rear axle, and away we went. I got to ride most of the way home!
What did I learn? Look ahead, and be prepared to turn little failures into triumphs. Actually, considered with the Kite Tale, I also absorbed a feeling for the many uses of an extra ball of string.