Quote:
Originally Posted by CaptainCrunch
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I think our parents installed less fear in us, injuries healed as did broken bones, but they were life lessons. My mom didn't scream and cuddle me when I skinned my knee's and whisper "You poor baby" She slathered on the most painful iodine or peroxide solution, slapped on some gauze and kicked my a%% back out the door.<snip>
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Haha I remember this kind of thing from my childhood as well. Good ol' iodine.
To use Pylon's wording, I grew up in the last part of the roaming childhood years too. Grew up just outside of the city where your life line was your bike. I'd be curious now to know just how many KMs I logged on my various bikes through my childhood.
One story that sticks with me still - There was a corner on the way to friend's house that I used to take as fast I could. I'd often go tearing around this corner, teetering on the very edge of the pavement when I came out of the corner and going faster than was probably sensible, But every time I took this corner, it was the same thing. Well, one day I hear from my Mom that my friend's dad has his head bandaged up and a broken arm and I asked her what happened. He said he had gone around that same corner faster than he usually does, as he always sees me go ripping around it. I remember feeling a mixture of guilt and pride haha.