Chapter 6

Pushmobile Racers

On Friday, Eddie waited impatiently for Sam the junkman to come along. Soon he heard him ringing his cowbell and calling, “Any old iron, old rags, old bones today?” Quickly Eddie explained his problem, and Sam said, “I’ll see what I can do.”

One week later, Sam returned, proudly holding up two axles with ball-bearing wheels. “Here they are, Eddie,” he called. “I hope you can use them.”

“Oh, thanks!” said Eddie. “They’re just what I need. How much do I owe you?”

“Not a thing,” replied Sam.

“I don’t owe you anything for getting them for me?”

“That’s right,” said Sam. “I just want to help you build a pushmobile fast enough to win many races.”

Eddie immediately started to build a new push-mobile with which to surprise the boys at the next race. To keep it secret, he hid the pushmobile in a corner of the barn and threw an old canvas over it. He arranged secretly for the best pusher in the neighborhood to push it for him. If he won, he would share his prize with the pusher.

On race day, all the boys stared in surprise at Eddie’s new pushmobile. The drivers lined up for the race and started with loud whoops. Eddie shot past all the other drivers, and none could catch up with him. “We’ve won!” he shouted to his pusher as they came in first in the race.

He jumped off, grabbed his pusher and swung him round and round. “We went like greased lightning, maybe a mile a minute,” he exclaimed. Then he patted the pushmobile and added, “I’ll call it ‘Mile-a-Minute-Murphy’ after the famous bicycle racer.”

At that time Charles Murphy, the bicycle racer, was the talk of the country. He had set a world record by riding a mile in one minute. This was the first time anybody had made a bike go such an amazing speed.

Sometimes Eddie and the Horseheads went to watch bicycle races, and he admired the riders for their strength and skill. He learned that a person had to keep fit to compete in any kind of racing. “Some day I want to be a bicycle racer,” he thought. “From now on I’ll save every penny I can to buy a second-hand bicycle. Maybe Sam can find one for me.”

That summer Eddie had to do more chores than usual because Bill had a job away from home. He again had to look after the herd of goats, which now was much larger, and had to deliver more goat’s milk to their customers. He had to take care of the chickens and bring both water and fuel to the kitchen.

He still found time to earn money on the side. He made a few pennies here and there by running errands or doing odd jobs for neighbors. Finally he asked Sam to find him an old bicycle, but it came with a twisted frame. “I’ll take it to John at the blacksmith shop,” he said, “and ask him to help me fix it. I’m sure he can bend it back into shape.”

Big John was happy to help him straighten the frame. When he reached home, it was almost as good as new. During the next few days he had great fun riding it along the streets with Trixie chasing him.

At the same time a bicycle rider named Knabenshue was traveling about the country in a big balloon called a dirigible. When he came to Columbus, Eddie and some of his friends went to watch him land. They stood spellbound as they looked up at the big dirigible floating through the air. “Hey, guys,” cried Eddie, “would you like to be floating in that thing up there?”

“Oh, no,” replied his friends. “It’s too scary for us.”

“Not for me,” replied Eddie. “I wouldn’t be afraid at all. Some day I hope I’ll be able to fly about high in the air.”

“How?” asked his friends.

“I don’t know,” replied Eddie, “but I’ll find a way.”

That night after he went to bed he lay awake, trying to think of a way to fly. Soon he came up with the idea of buying a large umbrella he had seen at a second-hand store. Then he would fasten the open umbrella to his bicycle and ride off the roof of a barn.

The next morning he told the neighbor boys about his plan. “I’ll take off from our neighbor’s barn,” he said. “It has a steep roof, and I’ll need all the speed I can get.”

The other boys looked at him doubtfully. “What if your plan doesn’t work?” they asked. “Won’t you need a soft place to land?”

“Yes, just for safety I’ll prepare a soft landing place back of the barn,” replied Eddie. “Maybe you guys can help me bring some sand from the gravel pit to pile on the ground.” (Image 6.1)

Image 6.1: Down the sloping roof he rolled, and shot off into the air.

“You bet,” said the boys. “We’ll do anything to help you fly.”

The boys made several trips to the gravel pit and built a large sandpile in back of the barn. Then Eddie asked one of the boys to help him take the bicycle and umbrella up to the roof of the barn. He tied the handle of the open umbrella to the frame of the bicycle.

He and his friend soon had the bicycle and open umbrella on the ridge of the roof, and he climbed onto the seat of the bicycle. Down below his friends cheered him and Trixie looked up at him and barked. He waved back at them and felt a bit afraid as he saw how far it was to the ground. “Let’s go,” he said to his friend. “I might as well get started.”

Down the sloping roof he rolled, and shot off into the air. The big umbrella turned inside out and he fell straight down to the sandpile. Quickly Trixie ran up to lick his face and all the boys gathered around to see if he was hurt. “Are you all right?” they cried anxiously.

“I guess so,” he said sadly as he slowly got to his feet.

Their neighbor heard the commotion behind her barn and ran out to see what had happened. Angrily she ordered the boys to leave and helped Eddie to limp home. “What a foolish thing for him to do,” she told Mama. “It’s a wonder he wasn’t killed. He must never jump off the roof of my barn again.”

Mama was angry, too, but Eddie noticed a tear in her eye. “Tell me, Eddie,” she scolded, “why did you ever do such a foolish thing?”

“I’m sorry, Mama,” he replied. “I was only trying to find out if I could fly.”

“Well, please promise not to do such a silly thing again,” she said. “Why, it’s so silly that I can hardly believe you did it.”

“I promise, Mama,” he replied. By now he could hardly believe it himself.