It probably was a bad idea to start. Being in middle school, one doesn't always think things through to the end. Our city repaved our street with a unique combination of tar and little white stones. They would first spray black tar from side to side. Then, these big trucks would spread white stones on the black tar. Cars would drive over it and over time it would make a smooth black top. My friend and I had the great idea of riding our bikes on the street right after they sprayed the black tar. For some reason it seemed like a good idea. After all, we never had ridden on black tar.
It took us a few seconds (about the length of one house) to realize that this was a bad idea. We came down the hill at full speed. Tar started hitting us in the face as it came whipping off the front wheel. We instantly tried to bail out by turning off the street onto a neighbor's driveway to the side walk. As we turned, our wheels slide out from underneath us and we went sprawling onto the tar as if sliding into home plate. As you can imagine we were covered with black tar from head to toe.
Do you know that you can't just take a shower and get black tar off of your body? I had to use acetone. To add to the indignity, I had to have my mom help me get cleaned up. I don't remember her reaction but I am sure that it was not good.
This story in a nut shell speaks volumes about my childhood. I spent a lot of time outside. I spent a lot of time on my bike. I spent a lot of time with neighborhood kids playing and sometimes doing dumb things because, well, my parents weren't always around to keep me out of trouble. They ran a business that was open 6 days a week.
Throughout my childhood, my yard, which was in the center of the block, was the center of neighborhood activity. We played baseball, football, Kick the Can, Bloody Murder, Sardines, Capture the Flag and a host of other made up games and activities. What I didn't realize at the time was this became my early preparation for a life in youth ministry.
