When I was around five years old, my family lived in Westerlo, New York (a town near Albany). One day my parents told my older sister and brother and me to load up in our big blue blazer to go for a ride. We loved going for rides on the weekends, but this time was more exciting. My parents had made plans to look at a house they were wanting to buy, but what I thought was going to be a nice ride through the hills turned into one of my most frightening memories as a child.
The day seemed perfect. The sun was shining through the fluffy white clouds in the sky. The leaves on the trees had turned colors and were beautiful to watch from the windows. We traveled up and down hills like we were riding a roller coaster. When we finally arrived at our destination, we slowed down and pulled over into a small parking area at the top of a large hill. My parents opened the doors and stepped out warning us, “Stay inside the blazer and do not touch anything.” We wanted to go with them, but there was a steep hill to climb and they said they would not be gone very long. The blazer was parked towards the road, so through the windshield, we watched them climb the hill and disappear over the top.
As soon as they were out of view, my brother and sister jumped into the front seats. My brother, Jimmy, decided he was going to act like he was driving. My sister, Charlotte, was in the passenger seat pretending like she was turning the radio stations. I was the timid child that didn’t like to be in trouble, so I sat in my seat and did exactly what I was told to do. It wasn’t long before Jimmy started bouncing up and down in the driver seat moving the steering wheel back and forth in time with his bouncing. I remember thinking to myself how much trouble we were...