I grew up in the city of Toronto, Ontario, Canada. One thing all of the kids looked forward to was the first big dump of snow, hopefully big enough that the schools would be closed but just a big snowfall would do. There's so much fun you can have as a kid when that first big snowfall hits. The snow is usually wet so you can build a snow fort and have snowball fights, make a snow man or snow angels; all of the stuff that makes being a kid Great! Well the first snowfall in third grade hit just before Halloween and me and my best buddies Dougy Whittle and John Cox (never call him Johnny unless you want to fight) had a blast all day at school. We pelted our enemies with snowballs and whitewashed the girls we liked so they would like us.
I don't think we learned a single thing in class that day, at least not that I can remember.
We couldn't wait until class let out so we could get our sleds and go sledding at Rock Hill. As soon as the bell rang we bolted for the cloak room (odd term because nobody wore a cloak that I knew, except for maybe the Art techer Mrs. Farris but she was so wierd you could never tell), we grabbed our coats and mittens and were out the door before our teacher even had a chance to release us from the prison we called school. She called after us but we were already gone!
Across the schoolyard we dashed and down the old King's Highway now called Kingston Rd., laughing and joking like the crazy school boys we were.
Snow for making snowballs was everywhere you turned and we pelted every sign on our trek home to get our sleds. Accuracy is everything when you're serious about snowball throwing and we aim for letters or pictures on the sign and the kid who hit it was the hero of the moment. We made it about 4 blocks down Kingston Rd. when we heard the rumble of a city bus coming down the road behind us belching smoke and throwing waves of slush everytime it hit a puddle of slush along the curb. We turned in time to see it approach, throwing a soupy brown mix of salt and slop onto the sidewalk and we all dashed for cover. Dougy and I hid behind a mailbox but poor John was caught out in the open and got doused by the wave of ice cold brown porridge. The bus passed and we turned to see our buddy covered in slop and cursing up a senseless blue streak that only a third grader can string together. Being his best friends we did the only thing a good friend could do in such a circumstance, we laughed our butts off till we could barely hold each other up;
this did not help john's disposition.
"I'm going to get those bloody bus drivers" exclaimed John "the next bus that comes along is going to get one right in the windshield". "Yeah, yeah John, you don't have the guts" we taunted as we continued our walk home, John dripping slush all the way.
We were almost at Clancy's Variety, our favorite candy stop, when we heard the rumble of another bus peeling down Kingston Rd.. We had been counting our pennies to see how much we had between us and arguing over what we would buy and suddenly John bolted for the snow bank and grabbed up a big handful of ice and snow.
"Come on, John" Dougy and I said in unison " You can't pelt the bus with that, we'll all get in trouble".
"Screw them" said John defiantly "Look at me, that bus driver did it on purpose and I'm getting even!"
"Yeah, Sure" we mocked "Forget it, let's go into Clancy's and get some Jawbreakers".
"You go ahead" said John his eyes glaring at the oncoming bus "I'll be in, in a second".
Now there was no way we were going to miss this, we'd all thrown snowballs at the side of bus and then run like hell but and iceball to the windshield that was something you didn't want to miss. It just not done, it went against the Geneva Convention on Snowballing; no iceballs and no windshields.
Still, we wanted to see if our buddy John had the guts to do it!
We all stood there in anticipation as the bus rumbled closer, a sense of tension was in the air; would John do it or just chicken out. As the bog bus got to within 50 feet John dopped the iceball down to his side and Dougy and I relaxed, John was chickening out.
Just as the bus was almost on top of us John leaned back and fired that iceball with all his strength right into the windshield of the bus.
CRACK!! went the iceball against the and then the squeal of brakes as the bus slewed to the curb and slid to a stop.
WOW! John had actually done it! A mix of admiration and fear came over us, was John brave or just plain nuts.
We all stood there petrified in the moment and suddenly with a loud hiss the bus doors sprung open and out of the opening leapt the bus driver, young and wiry with carrot top hair and a face beat red with anger.
As one voice the three of us yelled "RUN!!" and we turned and ran for our young lives back the way we had come from school.
Just before you get to Clancy's Variety is an arcade with a shoemaker and an appliance repair store and we all darted down the arcade in the hopes of eluding our pursuer in the field out behind the shops. This was not your typical, old, overweight bus driver, he was hot on our heels and he had longer legs as well; we had mortal terror on our side so it was almost an even match.
Down the arcade we bolted with Dougy in the lead, me next and John in the rear (I think that John was in shock at his act and it took him a little longer to hightail it when the bus driver had jumped out of the bus). We had almost made it to the field and relative safety when the bus driver overtook John and caught him by the hood of his snow jacket, hauling him up off his feet and down onto the pavement with a sick thud. John wailed at the impact with the cement and the bus driver hauled him up with one hand and flung him against the brick wall, then he proceeded to smack John silly.
Dougy and I turned back and pleaded with the bus driver to let John go before he killed him. I guess the rage that had taken hold of the bus driver had started to fade because he turned John around and gave him a swift kick in the pants that sent john tumbling down the stairs at the end of the arcade where he landed at our feet. The bus driver yelled at us a bit and then stomped back up the arcade to his bus. Whew!, what a relief that guy was gone.
Dougy and I helped John to his feet and help him wipe the blood off his face where the bus driver had smacked him around, a snotty hankerchief appeared from somewhere to wipe away the tears and the snot that was coming out of John's nose and soon we started our trek home but not so happy anymore.
By the time we had covered the few more blocks home to my house and John had cleaned himself up in our bathroom and changed into a spare set of my clothes from his wet ones, our spirits began to brighten again. John had been pretty roughed up and it was agreed that he deserved it but maybe not that much and with the resilence of kids that ages we grabbed our sleds and headed to Rock Hill.
BDA
I don't think we learned a single thing in class that day, at least not that I can remember.We couldn't wait until class let out so we could get our sleds and go sledding at Rock Hill. As soon as the bell rang we bolted for the cloak room (odd term because nobody wore a cloak that I knew, except for maybe the Art techer Mrs. Farris but she was so wierd you could never tell), we grabbed our coats and mittens and were out the door before our teacher even had a chance to release us from the prison we called school. She called after us but we were already gone!
Across the schoolyard we dashed and down the old King's Highway now called Kingston Rd., laughing and joking like the crazy school boys we were.Snow for making snowballs was everywhere you turned and we pelted every sign on our trek home to get our sleds. Accuracy is everything when you're serious about snowball throwing and we aim for letters or pictures on the sign and the kid who hit it was the hero of the moment. We made it about 4 blocks down Kingston Rd. when we heard the rumble of a city bus coming down the road behind us belching smoke and throwing waves of slush everytime it hit a puddle of slush along the curb. We turned in time to see it approach, throwing a soupy brown mix of salt and slop onto the sidewalk and we all dashed for cover. Dougy and I hid behind a mailbox but poor John was caught out in the open and got doused by the wave of ice cold brown porridge. The bus passed and we turned to see our buddy covered in slop and cursing up a senseless blue streak that only a third grader can string together. Being his best friends we did the only thing a good friend could do in such a circumstance, we laughed our butts off till we could barely hold each other up;
this did not help john's disposition. "I'm going to get those bloody bus drivers" exclaimed John "the next bus that comes along is going to get one right in the windshield". "Yeah, yeah John, you don't have the guts" we taunted as we continued our walk home, John dripping slush all the way.
We were almost at Clancy's Variety, our favorite candy stop, when we heard the rumble of another bus peeling down Kingston Rd.. We had been counting our pennies to see how much we had between us and arguing over what we would buy and suddenly John bolted for the snow bank and grabbed up a big handful of ice and snow. "Come on, John" Dougy and I said in unison " You can't pelt the bus with that, we'll all get in trouble".
"Screw them" said John defiantly "Look at me, that bus driver did it on purpose and I'm getting even!"
"Yeah, Sure" we mocked "Forget it, let's go into Clancy's and get some Jawbreakers".
"You go ahead" said John his eyes glaring at the oncoming bus "I'll be in, in a second".
Now there was no way we were going to miss this, we'd all thrown snowballs at the side of bus and then run like hell but and iceball to the windshield that was something you didn't want to miss. It just not done, it went against the Geneva Convention on Snowballing; no iceballs and no windshields.
Still, we wanted to see if our buddy John had the guts to do it!
We all stood there in anticipation as the bus rumbled closer, a sense of tension was in the air; would John do it or just chicken out. As the bog bus got to within 50 feet John dopped the iceball down to his side and Dougy and I relaxed, John was chickening out. Just as the bus was almost on top of us John leaned back and fired that iceball with all his strength right into the windshield of the bus. CRACK!! went the iceball against the and then the squeal of brakes as the bus slewed to the curb and slid to a stop. WOW! John had actually done it! A mix of admiration and fear came over us, was John brave or just plain nuts.
We all stood there petrified in the moment and suddenly with a loud hiss the bus doors sprung open and out of the opening leapt the bus driver, young and wiry with carrot top hair and a face beat red with anger. As one voice the three of us yelled "RUN!!" and we turned and ran for our young lives back the way we had come from school. Just before you get to Clancy's Variety is an arcade with a shoemaker and an appliance repair store and we all darted down the arcade in the hopes of eluding our pursuer in the field out behind the shops. This was not your typical, old, overweight bus driver, he was hot on our heels and he had longer legs as well; we had mortal terror on our side so it was almost an even match.
Down the arcade we bolted with Dougy in the lead, me next and John in the rear (I think that John was in shock at his act and it took him a little longer to hightail it when the bus driver had jumped out of the bus). We had almost made it to the field and relative safety when the bus driver overtook John and caught him by the hood of his snow jacket, hauling him up off his feet and down onto the pavement with a sick thud. John wailed at the impact with the cement and the bus driver hauled him up with one hand and flung him against the brick wall, then he proceeded to smack John silly. Dougy and I turned back and pleaded with the bus driver to let John go before he killed him. I guess the rage that had taken hold of the bus driver had started to fade because he turned John around and gave him a swift kick in the pants that sent john tumbling down the stairs at the end of the arcade where he landed at our feet. The bus driver yelled at us a bit and then stomped back up the arcade to his bus. Whew!, what a relief that guy was gone. Dougy and I helped John to his feet and help him wipe the blood off his face where the bus driver had smacked him around, a snotty hankerchief appeared from somewhere to wipe away the tears and the snot that was coming out of John's nose and soon we started our trek home but not so happy anymore.By the time we had covered the few more blocks home to my house and John had cleaned himself up in our bathroom and changed into a spare set of my clothes from his wet ones, our spirits began to brighten again. John had been pretty roughed up and it was agreed that he deserved it but maybe not that much and with the resilence of kids that ages we grabbed our sleds and headed to Rock Hill.
BDA
Remember hitching onto car bumpers on the snowy roads ?.......seeing who could stay on the longest.
Risky stuff, looking back on it now. Thankfully, most of us survived it. Great memories Eric........hope there's more to come.
Somehow I think there are thousands of others who wouldn't.
