I love remembering things from my childhood.  The best ones are the rare ones that a unique smell, sight, or sound recalls.  This cart is just a prop for a local business, but it is exactly like one we had as kids with our horses:

We had a black and white spotted Welsh pony named Dolly.  She was a brat.  It was obvious that she had been abused by people somewhere in her life, but now she was with us, and ALL of our critters were spoiled rotten (even the ones we would eventually eat – eek-haha!).  Well-fed.  Plenty of pasture room to roam.  Beautiful barn for housing everyone from the harsh Wisconsin winters (we were not far from Lake Michigan, and the winter winds off the lake are brutal).  We worked all summer long to store enough food for our critters, ourselves, and some friends and relatives.  We had some new neighbors move into the small home across the road, and they had three young boys – about our age.

Once we got to know them, they realized that we played like boys even though we were girls.  Mud was a blast.  Getting into stuff we were not supposed to was classic.  Then there were our horses which was an instant draw for all kids. 

The folks splurged on a 2-wheeled little cart (just like the pic above) for us to try to train Dolly to pull.  Keep in mind, most of our training was self-taught.  They got us a good harness, taught us the basics, and then we had at it.  When the boys next door found out, they could not wait to get up on it.

Jeffie (the youngest of the three boys) ran up to the cart all excited and was not paying attention to what he was grabbing ahold of to try to get up.  He placed his hand on the wheel instead of the seat, then pony leached forward (because she was a brat – remember?); his hand slipped in between the spokes and got caught on the edge of the seat, thus breaking his arm.

We ran him back home at once, and his folks took him to the doctor.  He came home with a cast that had to stay on most of the summer.  It never slowed down his wanting to get on the wagon, ride a horse, or just play with us. 

The best part of remembering this story now is that no attorneys, lawsuits, courts, or any of the nowadays B.S. usually happens.  It was just kids playing, and it was an ACCIDENT!  Yes, accidents really did happen back then.  Apparently, there is no such thing as an accident anymore?!?  Our parents even offered to pay the doctor bill, but the neighbors would not hear of it – “they were just being kids.”, was their reply. 

Isn’t it funny, the things you thought were long forgotten, then a simple something like seeing a cart can bring them all back? 

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