Go-Cart

Everyone knows I was a tomboy. If I couldn't do things better than the boys, at least I tried to be as good. When I heard that our friends had a go-cart, I REALLY wanted to get a turn driving it. I had never driven anything at all, but what difference did that make? Dad's friend Jim had constructed a round track next to his driveway and had gone to the trouble of banking the edges of the curves. Before he would let his sons drive the cart, he had driven it himself and proved that the ridge of dirt would stop the cart if it left the track.

There was no roll cage on the go-cart. It was long and sat practically on the ground, had a right pedal for the gas and a left pedal for the brake. I believe it had a lawn mower engine to power it. And naturally, a small steering wheel. I don't remember if there was a seat belt. I doubt it.

Jim called my Dad one Saturday afternoon to invite him and my brother to try it out. I jumped in the pickup with them before Mom could make me stay home and practice my piano lesson.

I watched enviously while everyone had a turn. This was after Jim had demonstrated it and assured Dad that it was quite safe. I can't remember Dad actually driving it but the boys all had a turn. It was best driven in a clockwise direction and there were no incidents.

I could hardly believe my good fortune when either Jim or Dad asked if I wanted to try it. I was so excited. Now this go-cart can't have been as large as I remember it being, because when they put me in the seat and showed me which pedal made it go and which one made it stop, I could easily reach them. I wasn't any taller then than I am now. The main warning they gave me was to be gentle with the steering wheel since those little tires way out at the front would make it turn a lot further than expected and it could fishtail.

Well, I went half way around the track with no trouble at all. Then, sure enough, I gave it too much gas or over steered and it did a 180 right in the middle of the track. It seemed to like going the other direction just as well so I didn't stop. I went right past all the guys and things were going fine. Jim was elbowing my dad in the ribs telling him that it wouldn't go counter-clockwise around the next curve and to watch what was about to happen.

By then it was time to turn a little to the left to stay in the middle of the track and it didn't want to go left. Instead it kept going straight. Straight over the edge of the track and the bank of dirt. Now I did have the presence of mind to put my foot, my left foot, on the brake when the go-cart jumped that bank, but, I forgot to take my right foot off the gas pedal. The accelerator worked much better than the brake.

Hardly slowing down at all, the cart and I sped south across the lawn, jumped the ditch, crossed the county road and came to a sudden stop against a utility pole (we called them telephone poles then) next to the local mechanic shop. Jim and Dad couldn't quite catch me, but they were snatching me out of the seat a split second later. Obviously, I was unharmed. The go-cart was a little dented up. Dad stuffed my brother and I in the pickup and returned home. I was mortified and it seems like Dad and my brother told mom we had fun until I was allowed to drive.

About an hour later the go-cart family drove out to the farm to rehash the event. They had taken a yardstick to the crash site and determined that my head had missed the bumper of a parked pickup by a matter of inches. They also speculated that the reason the bank of dirt didn't stop the cart when under my control was that I was so much lighter than the rest of them. The boys never got to drive it again. It disappeared the same day.