Wally’s dad had helped Wally build the wagon. It was the first project they had done together. Wally was never to take it into the street. In fact, his dad had told him to wait until he got home from work before playing with it.
He couldn’t wait; he was too excited to ride in it to see how fast it would go. As the wagon sat quietly in the backyard, Wally thought that just a quick ride across the yard wouldn’t hurt anything, so with a running push, he jumped in and hung on as the thing rolled easily across the grass. It was great. He wished his dad was there to see him go.
It wasn’t a smooth ride, but it was fun. Wally expected it to stop when it hit the fence, but it broke right through and kept rolling. Panic set in as he and the wagon rolled to the edge of the cliff that led down to the lake. Faster and faster it rolled and bounced along with Wally trying hard to hold onto the sides.
Luckily, or not,
depending on how you look at it, holding tight to the sides as the wagon
bounced along caused Wally to get a sliver in his palm and he quickly let
go. The next thing he knew he was airborne
and landed hard on the ground. The
wagon, without Wally to weigh it down, bounced even higher as it headed faster towards
the water. Wally’s dad didn’t yell at
him. He was just thankful his boy wasn’t
hurt. He did, however, hang this picture
on the wall in Wally’s room. That seemed
like punishment enough.
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