Those were the days...

When I was a kid they didn't even have helmets.

My Dad (the older guy)

Not only did we not wear them, but much to my Dad's horror, (and I'm sure to my Mum's as well, I just never remember her telling me that my bicycle was a "death trap") the bikes we rode had no brakes. This was somewhat understandable, at least to us young lads anyway. The bicycles we had were a mish mash of banged-up old frames & parts that we'd salvage from the dump, the "tip" we called it for no reason that is clear to me at this stage of life, other than that is what it was called in Dublin.

The lack of brakes was not much of an issue for us, it kept our Mothers wondering why the middle part of the left sneaker was always the first thing to go. Sticking one's foot between the back wheel & the frame, while not the quickest way to stop your bike was certainly effective and made for a wicked skid...  

In fact the only time I remember injuring my head was a time in Blackrock Park, a lovely place a wee bit south of where I lived. There was a playground, see, and they were putting new playground equipment in, one item of which was a long, skinny metal slide that had not been installed to completion, which meant that the end had a nice rise, just enough to kick you up & out for a perfect landing in the pond. Let me tell you right here that the idea that kids see people like Evel Kinevel and try to do what he does....  it's true. 

Don't let your children watch television, any of it...

So, the story ends with me reaching the end of the slide with not quite enough speed, and falling off with the inevitable  bicycle following me through the air and landing on my head. I had to get a stitch. It was quite traumatic.

So, the moral of the story folks, is: never let your kids out of your sight while in Dublin.