By GREG O’DRISCOLL
Staff Writer
When I was a kid we often didn’t have a car. Once, that was because the tires had been slashed, and given my stepfather’s bad habits I still wonder if that was not as random as it seemed, but more often it was just bad luck and lack of funds.
Step-dad’s drug binges had a way of depleting the family coffers, so most of our cars were used rattletraps that might leave you on the side of the road if they took a dislike to the driver. He had a motorcycle to zip around on but if we were lucky, the family had a series of cars that were one step from the boneyard.
During these car-less periods, I was the grocery boy for the family. Mom did a big haul about once every other week or so when she could get a coworker to drive her to the store and then home. The rest of the time I rode my bike to the Piggly-Wiggly with money and a list.
I would come pedaling back with the bike loaded down, bags hanging from the handlebars and a pack of diapers for my little sister wedged in between them in a spot that almost could have been made for that exact purpose. More bags would be suspended from my elbows where I had slipped my arms through the plastic holes, and once I even clenched the plastic straps of an extra bag in my teeth, carrying it home like a dog with a dead goose by the neck.
It was an educational experience, a crash course in budgeting, logistics and decision making. Like most kids I had been shopping with my mom more times than could be counted. Being given all the money we had and a list of things we needed, then sent off on my own, well, that was a whole other business. She would write down roughly what she thought things might cost and advised me to get them cheaper if I could.
The incentive? I could keep the change, even if there was never very much of it, for a comic book and a soda to cool off before the long bike ride home. This was back when comics advertised “still only 75 Cents!” on the cover and even as a kid I knew that meant prices would be going up shortly.
I can tell you those were some of the best comics I ever read and the coldest sodas I ever drank.
I’d flip through it just long enough to get an idea what happened in that month’s Conan or Uncanny X-Men and then get moving. It was inferno hot during the summers even back then. If the milk spoiled while I was goofing around that might have upset this whole “keep the change” gig I had going.
I’d head back to the house imagining all kinds of craziness; Mad Max stuff with bandits attacking me, stealing my money on the way there or taking the groceries on the way back. Sometimes it was just more prosaic stuff, worrying about some tough older kid up the street legitimately taking the money or this annoying neighborhood mutt that had an easier time catching up to me and snapping at my heels when I was loaded down with groceries.
Mom was always grateful when I got back. She would ask if I had fun on my adventure. Looking back, I see that I did enjoy my little supply runs.
At the time I couldn’t understand why we didn’t have a car. It just seemed like such a basic thing that every other family had whenever they needed it. People could do in minutes what it took me hours to accomplish.
As with most of our problems, Mom said it was only a temporary thing. She also said she knew I could do it. She trusted me. That meant a lot. I felt like I had really done something after that. What I didn’t know then is she was teaching me survival skills that kids from car-equipped families had not yet learned.
With the lack of reliable public transportation in this country, I certainly don’t recommend going without a car if you have any say in the matter.
That said, you learn a lot without a car. Who will help you and who won’t, what your town looks like on foot, the contents of its ditches, the temperament of its dogs and the struggles of fellow car-less travelers. It can be an enlightening look at a world that is normally just whizzing past the window as we sit in our air-conditioned bubbles.
Give it a try sometime. Ride a bike to the Piggly-Wiggly in this murderous heat and see how good that first sip of soda tastes. Just watch out for cars — and the bandits!
