My Favorite Present - A Car For A Kid to Dirve

My Favorite Present - A Car for A Kid to Drive

Everyone remembers their first car, their first solo drive. For most of us, we were probably somewhere between sixteen and twenty before we’d saved up enough money from our part-time after school job to buy it. Or maybe we were lucky enough to have our parent’s spring for it. But then there are those of us who were given the gift of a car to ride way before their teenage years.

For me, it was my forth birthday. I remember coming down the stairs that morning, rubbing the sleep from my eyes. Final my birthday had arrived. Mom and Dad followed me.

“Don’t worry, sweetie,” Mom said laughing, as I began to run from room to room. “It’s big. You won’t have to look hard to find it.”

I looked in every room on the first floor of our house. I started to get worried. If it was so big, why couldn’t I find it? The last place I looked was the garage. I entered the cool cinderblock extension off the kitchen. It was still dark. I couldn’t see very much except my parent’s new wood-paneled station wagon.

Suddenly, Dad turned on the light, and there it was, sitting next to the family car. A bright, new shiny black car, without a top, big enough for me to sit in and ride. I couldn’t believe what I saw, so I just stood there, wide-eyed and staring.

I walked over to it slowly, not sure what to do with it. Dad lifted me up and sat me down in the car. “Remember how you learned to ride your tricycle by pushing on the pedals? This car works the same way. See those pedals? Put you feet on them and push just like a bike. There you go.”

I nearly jumped out of my seat with the little car moved. I grabbed onto the steering wheel with all of my might as the car rolled forward. “Wow” I cried out. “A toy car I can ride in!”

Someone, probably Mom, pushed the button and the garage door opened. The world outside opened up in front of me. I began pushing the pedals. At first they were hard, but I just kept pushing and pushing and little by little I got the knack. I drove slowly out of the garage and onto the sidewalk. I turned the steering wheel and sure enough the little car turned. I rode on the sidewalk, my parents, half walking, half running behind me.

Even though it was still early morning, there were several of the neighborhood kids outside playing ball or jumping rope. I felt like a king as I rode passed them. They stopped their play and watched me, some were smiling, some were curious, some even looked jealous. But I felt great!

I think my parents finally got tired, so they turned me back, and we headed for the house.

That was the first of many trips I took over the years in my push and pedal car. With my friends, we made up games. Sometimes we’d pretend we were going to the beach, and with the cookies and lemonade my Mom gave me, we’d ride up and down the block until we settled in the backyard and had a picnic. Or I’d pedal my car along side Dad when he went for a bike ride in the park. The more I drove my kid car, the easier it got, the faster I went. Dad said my muscles were getting bigger and strong from steering and pedaling.

When I rode it up and down the block by myself, I imagined I was on a long highway in a far away place looking at strange castles and bridges and riding through dark and mysterious tunnels in search of treasures. Sometimes at night before bedtime, I’d make up stories of places I’d been in my car that day. Mom and Dad would smile and then kiss me good-night.

Needless to say, I’ve always had a soft spot in my heart for my first car. No, it didn’t have a huge powerful engine. It had my arms and legs. It didn’t move automatically but pushed through life as imagined by my own mind and heart.

Today my son turns four. In our garage is the little black push and pedal car I spent so many wonderful hours in as a child. I smile when I picture the look on my son’s face when he sees it this morning on his forth birthday.

About the Author: Eileen Cinque has a Masters Degree in Counseling Psychology. She recently retired as a supervising Children’s Social Worker. In her experience working with thousands of young children, she found that by engaging in active play, children not only built strong bones and muscles but expanded their imagination and creativity.
Check out her website which offers unique ride on toys for young children.
http://www.myrideontoy.com