Here's a few more stops on the never-ending walking tour of my childhood:
1 - When I went back to New York as an adult, eighteen years since my last visit, I got together with Larry and Chris. We had curiously different memories of an incident at this location. The three of us decided to have a contest that involved throwing objects under passing cars - these objects - it might have been one or all of them over time - including snowballs, Frisbees or rocks. It was exciting - more so when one of the three hit the side of a passing car. The guy pulled over immediately into one of the parking spaces - and we took off like a shot!
2 - I took off so fast, I left my precious Stingray bike standing right here. As soon as I sprinted home (we split up and were hiding in our respective homes), I waited maybe ten minutes and crawled like a spy back around the corner to retrieve my bike. To my relief, the guy was gone...but I was terrified that we hadn't heard the last of this...
3 - We used to have a crabapple tree on the curb in front of our house. One day, Larry and I decided it would be funny to line up crabapples all the way across the street. Crabapples, if you don't know, are like tiny, apples, just a little bigger than a marble. We hid behind a bush and watched as cars drove by, running over the crabapples. We rushed out and quickly replaced the crushed crabapples with fresh ones, and returned to our hiding place. Then, some crazy guy stopped, not wanting to contaminate his tires. He saw us right away and ordered us to move the crabapples out of his way. I suppose we might have run, but we were right in front of my home, and we didn't want trouble. We obeyed, and another game was over.
4 - Here's a little tramatic event. I was sitting here at about 6 or 7 years old with a child's plastic fishing rod, happily playing the fisherman at Ridder's Pond. Then some kid, perhaps a little older, came by with his dad and commented about my "baby" fishing rod. I went home in defeat. Perhaps this is why I've never been much of a fisherman...
5 - That little white object is actually a shack, a small way-station for the Nassau county police. It was built within a few months after we hit the side of the car down the street. For years, I was convinced that it was built solely to nab us for our crime.
They haven't caught us yet.