Christmas, 1971. We had just moved to a little rental house in Issaquah, 495 Rainier Blvd, from our home on Capitol Hill in Seattle. That was back in the day when there were NO stoplights in Issaquah. The closest thing to a stoplight was the blinking red light above the four-way stop at the main intersection on Front Street.
Our little house was actually good sized, and the empty lot to the north of it was ours for the plundering. Mom and Dad put in an above-ground swimming pool and us kids had free-rein of the neighborhood-wandering into the hills and swimming at some odd swimming hole that was associated with the fish hatchery. We’d pack bologna sandwiches and bottles of Coca-Cola and be off for the day.
That was in the summer. Not so much fun in the winter.
I don’t know what was in their minds that winter. My brothers and sister and I, we weren’t really “children” anymore, but Santa still came to visit. In 1971, Santa brought us a little red Benelli motorcycle. It’s the first motorcyle I ever rode, and we all spent hours on it, riding in the spare lot beside our house, going around and around and around the swimming pool.
That year, there was a good 8 or 12 inches of snow during Christmas break, and each of us began our “driving” education on that Benelli, in the snow. I’m don’t imagine that’s what my parents had planned, that we would start learning to commune with motor vehicles in the snow in the backyard, but I couldn’t ask for anything better as a way to learn the nuances of an engine and wheels and the physics (and even danger) of all that.
I feel for folks who ride with me now, as I drive my little yellow car, zip zip zip, along the streets. I drive my car pretty much like I learned to manage a motorcycle, almost leaning into the turns and all.
So, back to 1971. The receipt above is obviously for the purchase of the Benelli. I found it this afternoon amongst some other old papers that I moved from their house after my parents died. I am quite keen on the turquoise blue of the paper and the ink, and that the Benelli came from Penny’s, but especially that my mom was the one who signed for the purchase. I dunno. I just think that’s very cool.
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