That Saturday afternoon, the traffic was almost nonexistent as four very bored kids gathered in front of 110 Flamingo Street.
We had accounted for everything. Big Brother James, Older Brother Richard, and even Twin Brother Mark said it would be safe. No one could possibly get hurt, or so they thought.
Once past our house, Flamingo Street dropped sharply off before finally ending in a cul-de-sac. It was perfect for ice sledding during the winter, but in mid-August you couldn’t buy a snowflake with all of Preston Weston III’s money. So we had to improvise and invent the skate sled. Read More»