That Snows the Goat

It had been windy for days and I was tired of it. I was nine years old and wasn’t used to having the wind blowing all day long. I was used to the afternoon wind that came just before the afternoon rain shower. That wind might puff a few times before it got serious, or arrive in a sudden gust with no warning at all. Either way, it brought the fresh ozone-like smell of the approaching thunderstorm, warning me to collect any toys I didn’t want to get wet and to take them inside. I would drop them just inside the doorway, and yell a warning to my Mom, “It’s going to rain!”, and then run right back outside to enjoy the gusty coolness while Mom rushed to rescue her laundry. Soon I’d help take the clothes down from the lines; and sometimes she let me tie a towel around my neck and join the other caped crusaders running up and down the sidewalk, arms held out in the proper Superman flying position.

This wind was different, blowing all day and night. It knocked over toys, blew down our sheet tents as we tried to make them on the back stoop, and interfered with our baseball games. Everything was harder to do: walking, riding a bike, opening and closing screen doors. Even handing a comic book to someone could lead to a Keystone Cops chase, which often ended with a crushed comic as a desperate pursuer stomped the book to a stop.

I was returning from the local grocery store, and noticed that the wind I had pedaled so hard against to get to the store was now at my back; I hardly had to pedal at all as I headed home. I carried groceries in my bike’s front basket, and was griping a six-pack of Pepsi with each hand. Holding the Pepsi’s and the bike’s handle-grips at the same time made the bike difficult to steer, so as I sailed along I was glad to have the boost. Then it came to me, a new invention – the Bicycle Sail.

After dropping off the groceries, I convinced Gary Rebb, who was allowed to use his father’s tools unsupervised, to help me collect the materials I needed, as long as he got ride number two. We went across the street where some new houses were being built and picked out several 2×4s from the scrap pile. On the way to Gary’s backyard, we stopped at a couple of the houses and collected nails and screws to complete our project.

Since it was my idea, we used my bike as the test vehicle. I remember it was a beautiful bike, a 26-inch Firestone. It was all white with a red Firestone logo on the panels of the crossbars, and red pin-striping on the fenders and chain guard. It had a wire basket mounted over the front wheel, a buddy seat over the back one, and red grips on the handle bars. It originally had red and white streamers hanging from the grips, but I had taken them off before my first public ride as I thought they were too girly.

It took us all morning to measure and cut the mast and boom. We hadn’t heard of the adage “Measure twice and cut once,” and after a lunch break and several trips for replacement parts, we finally had our rigging ready for mounting. For a sail, we used the same sheet we used as a tent.

I had learned everything I knew about sail rigging from The Boys of the Western Sea, a serial shown on the Mickey Mouse Club, and from watching old pirate movies. Gary and I nailed two of the 2×4s around the crossbars and sandwiched in another for the mast. We had already nailed a top boom to the mast before placing it, and to finish up we laid the bottom boom across the handlebars, lashing it on with lots of twine. The reasoning here was that the bike’s steering would take the place of a rudder.

The wind had kept up during construction, and had caused delays when it blew over the bike, then the mast, then the bike again, then both together once they were joined. After making repairs, we were ready for the first test run.

We pushed the Firestone Sail-Bike around to the front sidewalk, going the long way around to obey the wind; as even without a sail it was a handful. We turned the front wheel sideways and laid the bike down to tie the sheet to the ends of the two booms. I straddled the Sail-Bike and held the sail closed as Gary helped me stand it upright.

A square rigged sail is one of the most efficient sails, but one of the hardest to manage. As soon as I was seated on the upright bike, the wind ripped the sail from my grip, and away I sailed. I quickly settled into the seat; with both hands on the handle bars, I sat back to enjoy the ride. Almost instantly I saw a flaw with my rigging choice: you couldn’t see where you were going. I tried turning the handle bars to get a better view, but the wind nearly tipped me over. I tried steering it like a normal bike, by leaning from side to side, but didn’t improve my view. I looked down and kept the bike centered in the sidewalk. I felt the bike tip forward on the front wheel as the wind increased in speed. I leaned back to keep the rear wheel on the ground.

Bump, clack, and I nearly fell off as I went over the curb at the end of the block. No sidewalk below me now, I was in the street. Soon I would reach the canal at the end of the road. I had to stop. I back-pedaled, engaging the coaster brake. The rear tire locked up and began to shriek. Maybe I should jump off, but that would scratch up my bike. And me. No, I’ll ride it out. I let off the brake.

I judged by what I was passing that the canal was coming up pretty soon. I decided I would just ride it into the water. No problem, I could swim. And the water was only a few feet deep. Then I remembered the guard-rail. I hit the guard rail, the mast, the sail and then the water.

It wasn’t so bad, just a few scrapes and bruises for me, and a bent front wheel for my bike. I had to get my father to help me pull it out of the canal, and had to explain what that wooden thing that it was stuck in was. Hardest of all was explaining to Mom how that sheet had gotten so dirty.