From the archives: "Okay, so I bought a Big Wheel off eBay..."

Yes that's right. I bought a classic retro Big Wheel for roughly $40. Just like this one...



Now, the item description clearly states that the toy is for children ages 3-8 and has a weight limit of 70 lbs. These are two MINOR details I chose to ignore. This is America after all not communist China.

I placed the order and anxiously awaited its delivery. After a few days of stalking the mail carrier ... it finally arrived. Oddly, the box did not come in the shape of a Big Wheel. This alarmed me. This box was a tight, heavy rectangle. Much like cardboard boxes you've seen homeless people living in or someone breakdancing on. I digress.

I rip open the box to reveal a brightly colored jumbled mess. Fuck me, assembly required. So, I clear a space in the living room and get to work. I quickly admire the plastic craftmanship ... something that was simply not appreciated as a seven-year-old kid hopped up on Skittles and Laffy Taffy.

After several hours, a dinner break, and a power nap ... I had finished construction on what would be dubbed "Jonesy's Mean Machine".

I stepped back to admire the blazing red and yellow chick-magnet that lay before me. It was time to ride.

After some brief stretching exercises I slowly ease myself into position. The plastic begins to quiver and creak like the planks aboard the Titanic. I hold my breath and pause. Slowly I shift myself back into the seat and bring one leg over the steering column. My knees are now positioned directly in front of my eyelids. I can taste the dried mustard on my pants from two days ago. I have just invented a new yoga position: The Uncomfortable Retard.

Denying myself the reality of the situation ... I vow to continue.

I extend my legs just enough to gently place the edges of my feet upon the peddles. Praying to the gods of inertia ... I manage some semblance of a rotating action with my legs causing the front wheel to begin its revolutions. The combination of plastic, hard wood floors, and 200 lbs of midnight pizzas and Cartoon Network left very little room for torque. The Big Wheel did not budge.

I began a desperate pelvic thrust hoping that would get things moving. My toy humping proved fruitless. Gravity had failed me.

Exhausted, I felt a mixed bag of emotions as the tears began to stream down my face. Saddness turned to rage. Back and forth until I had pounded the wall and cried myself to sleep.

I have learned from my experience. People were meant to grow out of their toys. Maybe I can find some other fuel for my nostalgia. A Snoopy Sno-Cone Machine perhaps. Perhaps. Some day.

But for now ... I have to figure out how to get a Big Wheel out of my neighbor's tree.


-Jonesy