We had just replaced our clothes dryer so sitting in our driveway was the old one, bound for the dump. The light bulb in my head came on (albeit dim) and I said, "Go grab a couple of baseball bats and beat-up that old dryer". The two of them lit up and damn near trampled the dog on their way to the garage. They both came out running and armed with wooden bats. The noise level grew 1000 decibels or so soon thereafter as they beat the crap out of that old Kenmore (we live in the sticks and the neighbors in the area are pretty much used to our noise level). The dog went for cover. When I noticed that they were concentrating on parts that would break and shatter I sent them to my shop for safety glasses. They came back with two old pairs of my bike riding sunglasses. Close enough.

I became engrossed in my mechanics task and didn't really notice that they made additional trips back to the shop. I did notice the noise had died and when I looked up they had broken everything that would break and were now working on it with crowbars, claw hammers, and large screw drivers. I know full well that clothes dryers are not living things but I was starting to feel sorry for that poor dumb device. There was squeaking and bending and screws popping. I could see it's insides now and it was not a pretty site.

A handful of minutes later I heard, "WHOA, cool. Look at that. Let's take it out". My automatic "Dad alarm" went off in my head and I involuntarily scurried over to see what they were "taking out". They had discovered that removal of the dryer drum was an easy surgical procedure and were well into the process when I arrived. Seeing no threat for trips to the hospital for stitches I let them proceed.

They had it out in minutes and were all over it trying to figure out what to do with it. They whacked it a few times but the sound was disappointing compared to the racket they got out of the big sheet metal dryer. I lost track of them as they rolled it to the front yard but could hear them laughing, and the dog barking, so I knew it was a happy thing. I remember shouting something like, "don't hit our cars with that and keep it out of the road". Our driveway has a nice slope to it. I could tell by their reaction that I had anticipated their next move.

Soon they both came running back, empty handed, busily chatting and excited, dog trailing happily. They left again for the front yard with two pillows and a biking helmet. My auto-alarm went off again. At this point you need to know that I give my guys plenty of room to explore, so for this reason I took my time getting to the yard on the other side of the house. When I got there my 12 year old had my 6 year old in the dryer drum and ready to roll down the hill in the long part of our side yard. I sped up my pace in order to get there before they finished their countdown.

Everything looked OK with the impending launch. I did a full preflight inspection and I clearly ascertained that my 6 year old was a willing test pilot of the dryer drum. I gave them the "go ahead". After a few interruptions from the little guy (he wanted to make sure that the older guy wasn't going to push him too fast or into the swing set and other life essential details) they were clear for launch and the countdown began. It was so funny. I heard a "GO", and a "WEEEEEeeeee". From the side I could see his little body firmly braced with arms and legs against the inside of the drum, his padding beneath his back, and his little helmeted smile as he turned over and over and over. It proceeded slowly down the slight incline (I didn't let them start at the top of the hill). It rolled beautifully and began to pick up speed as the hill grade angle increase slightly. It was at this point, I think, that I sized up the drum and determined that I would NOT be able to fit in it. Too bad.

I then heard what sounded like, "sta..sta...sta...sta...stop....stop...me....me.....me......me.....me! It was too late. He was out of reach and moving too fast. Our dog was right there running along side of him but all she could do was add chaos with her barking. We caught up as the drum slowed and came to rest in a soft part of the yard. We helped the little moaning man out. He was like an astronaut that had been in weightlessness for a long duration. We stood him up but he was weak and wet noodle like. Giddy with joy he fell to the ground murmuring something like, "that was sooo cool". They started taking turns. Each one would ride it to a stop and rest to recover full consciousness while they talked about their triumph. Together they would trek a little higher up the hill and would go again and again.

Just before my oldest and 3rd son and I departed for our bike ride I saw that the other two were preparing to make a run from the very top of the hill (little guy first of course). Yelling from the van I left them with this one last bit of advice, "keep your helmet on and try not to hit any trees". For some reason it just felt like the right thing to say. I smiled big and proud. When I came home from my incredibly awesome and fun mountain bike ride later in the day the dryer drum was parked in our garage next to their collection of bikes, trikes, scooters, and other wheeled things as if it was a newly acquired toy. Where in the world did these kids get this crazy desire for speed and thrills?