So… A long time ago I went riding with my brother Bovair, CJ and Raynor. Raynor came out the corner and said “Car coming!”.

CJ turned the corner and said “truck coming!”

Of course I was confused.

Luckily Bovair was very matter of fact.

He said “Ice cream truck!”

I came out the corner and got run over. The next thing I knew, I was holding on to the front bumper with one leg under the ice cream truck and one outside, being drug along the street with the screeching tire inches away from my jibblies.

The driver was scared bad. He fixed the brakes on my bike. Gave us all ice cream.

I was a little shaken, but I only lost a scab that was about to fall off anyway…I think from the cockroach bite…that is another post.

From then on, instead of saying truck, car, etc. everyone just said “hey Leno, go get knock down so we could get some ice cream.”

Boys are dumb.

Special prize to whoever can place an x on the spot it happened on.

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