Explanation of Demo

Back in the spring of 1997, Trevor and I had a novel idea: A Demo Durby. Not exactly what most 8/9 and 5/6 (summer birthdays) year olds think of to do in their spare time, but keep in mind that we are not your normal 8 and 5 year olds! So we set to work, we took our innocent red wagon, put the booster seat Trent had refused to use in it, and then some miscellaneous engine parts, boards and whatnot in the bottom: to resemble a motor. We mixed up everything liquid we could find into our own gasoline compound. Unfortunately, our cart had small holes in each corner (probably some engineer put them there for safety reasons, but we were not that appreciative) so it leaked all over the granary (the shed where all of this came to be) ramp (yup, theres a long cement ramp on the side- how convenient!). But it was a Demo Durby, none the less. We found a very antiquated yellow helmet (minus the padding), some large gloves and walla we were safe. And several weeks later when Grandmother & Grandfather visited, we had our first show. I cannot remember if it was the first show or not, but at any rate, Trevor pushed Trent over the taller side of the ramp. The fearless stuntman arose with the defining phrase: What was that kid thinking? At one of these events, Grandmother dropped her camera (probably because she was filled with horror at what we were subjecting ourselves to and afraid wed kill ourselves or something) and it never did work again. We later used it as a pretend video camera to tape other such events. One year we could not find our beloved helmet, so we took a plastic flowerpot, shoved some padding into it, and painted our number on it. Then we tarp-strapped it onto the poor victims head.The Demo Durby continued every summer for many years until recently, when we all were deemed too big to fit.

And as Melvis would say, those were Good times, good times

One autumn, we designed a bike course on a very steep side-slope (between 2 grain bins, no less). It was quite a feat for either of the boys to make it down without falling. Grams & Gramps were back (we put them through so much!!) so we put on a show. On one of Trents runs, he fell. Upon closer inspection, Grandmother noted (from our carefully constructed grandstands: a board across to cinderblocks: and there was a used juice box in one of them- kinda like a fancy waste receptacle) that Trents ankle was askew, facing some fancy angle it was not intended to be. So I went to investigate, but then was able to assure her it was nothing; Trents boot was painfully askew, not his actual foot. Fortunately, Grandmother has learned from previous escapades, and wore her camera on a strap around her neck.