Mini-biking with Jake

      It was the summer of 1970 and Jake had just purchased a fixer on a nice track of land.

      The rundown house was located alongside Perkiomen Creek This creek was so named by the early Indians that spoke Lenape or Algoonquian and the Indian name means “muddy waters” or where the cranberries grow.” The Perkiomen is a tributary of the Schuylkill River - it runs through many counties – our county of Montgomery being one of them.

      The Perkiomen Creek joins the Schuylkill River just downstream of Audubon, not far from Hanover Country Club and Condominiums (One of the many places that my Godfather would eventually own), near Mill Grove farm.

      The “Fixer” that Jake had purchased had been an old farmhouse and it needed a lot of work.

      Looking back with the power of hindsight, I know that Jake had taken on a project that was beyond his scope of expertise.

      Everything needed fixing or repair, the roof, the foundation, the plumbing, the electrical… simply everything.

      The property had a well and a septic and both of these features were in question. Jake was blinded by his emotions and his vision of what the place had once been and what it would become.

      I could see why he loved the property; just the acreage alone would have been worth owning. The property ran a long way along side Perkiomen Creek and the rugged hilly terrain caused the creek to run downhill in sections and to gather in pools at various levels. The land and the creek was a habitat to various creatures not to be found in King Manor - a burg between Bridgeport and King of Prussia – a place where we rented a nice house.

      This area of Pennsylvanian was on the outskirts or various burgs and suburbs, it was in fact a very rural area.

      I was delighted that we would eventually move their because all sorts of creatures such as various turtles, snakes and amphibians could be found as thick as fleas on an untended dog throughout the area.

      One day, during this particular summer, Jake took us to the lower portion of the property that was laid out in a small field. He had borrowed a min-bike from a friend and he decided to take on the task of teaching us how to ride a mini-bike.

      He thought we would have fun and he took the opportunity to show us how it was operated. He rode the bike with the ease of an expert. He had after all owned a Norton 750 commando motorcycle for years prior to and during his stint in the Marines. He tried to show us how the clutch worked and how to shift gears on the bike and how the hand accelerator had to be operated each time the gears were to be shifted.

      As he showed us, I felt a growing anxiety and it was if he was explaining quantum mechanics instead of popular mechanics. To my credit, I was not just afraid that I would get hurt in the process of learning how to ride a mini-bike, but I was concerned that somehow I would wreak the bike of which I knew did not belong to Jake. I could not bear the responsibility.

      I did however manage to ride the bike for a bit, but not very well. I grinded gears and slipped the clutch and was herky-jerky with the accelerator. It was a disappointing and un-enjoyable ride and was grateful to be allowed off the bike as soon as I put in what Jake considered to be the requisite time that an oaf like me should be allotted.

      My brother James went next.  Even though he was three and a half years younger than me and much smaller, and although he was in fact more fearless, he faired even worse. He crashed the bike several times into shrubs and other obstacles. To his credit he kept getting on the bike and he kept crashing. He had no fear of personal injury and he certainly did not have any concern for owner’s bike.

      Eventually, Jake decided that for the safety of both the bike and James, it would now be Lynn’s turn. Jake started up the bike and he instructed my sister to climb on. Lynn grabbed both handlebars and the bike nearly fell; in response Lynn shrieked and reflexively pulled back on the accelerator and the bike rocketed forward. Lynn held on for dear life and of course the weight of her dragging body caused the accelerator to open up entirely and she was pulled away at even greater speed. She shrieked and screamed as Jake, James and I tried to catch up to her.

      That was the last time I remember Jake engaging in family fun and recreation with the three of us.

      Shortly afterwards it is alleged that a vagrant broke into the house and ‘accidentally’ set the place on fire. I never did find out how Jake fared on this land deal. I was disappointed that we would not move to such a nice place.