Vagabondage in Two Easy Kilometres

Mobile paghpaghak purveyors were a common sight across from the Courts of Avon in the early strata summers. Kids would excitedly show up for dairy treats or “wooder ice,” a favoured local version of a granita. And of course, out of any crowd of youngsters there is the one rascal who must look for mischief.
  Gass-boy eyed the kerbside van as kids queued up for refreshments. He bounded over from the pavement to plop himself on the van’s rear bumper, looking impishly about.
  “C’mon, hop on!” he shouted to Malinconico, standing nearby.
  And a split-second decision was made, possibly involving adrenaline, the consideration of opportunity versus risk, or maybe just the desire for a cool breeze on a hot June day.
  Malinconico slipped behind the van without notice of the kids or the driver. He sat on the back next to Gass-boy, firmly gripping the bumper under him. The boys chuckled nervously as the vehicle lurched into gear and began toddling down the lanes of Sheffield. The crowd of kids left in their wake pointed and mouthed words that were soon out of earshot as they passed the Nottingham Weg.
  On the roads of Cambridge the van picked up speed without making any stops. A 40 km/h residential speed limit doesn’t seem like all that much until your legs are dangling inches from the asphalt racing by. The boys held fast as they made a turn onto Forrest Drive, the van ringing its bell to alert anyone nearby as it trundled up a broad hill. The rushing breeze felt great as the sun began to dip behind the trees.
  The van finally slowed for a stop near the far reaches of the Brae Court. A different neighbourhood may as well be a different world for even the most daring of nine-year-olds. Boys and girls gathered as the van braked.
  ‘Best jump off now before those kids tell the driver,’ both boys silently thought to themselves. Gass-boy and Malinconico nimbly hopped off the bumper and disappeared into the throng of kids, emerging on the far side of the footpath before anyone could figure out what was going on.
  The pair nonchalantly made their way back down Forrest Drive, the summer day winding to a cool close as they hiked the two kilometres back to familiar environs.
  Reaching home turf at the Courts of Avon, the Nuvetis, Vascettas, and the gang from St. Jude’s drew close.
  “How far didja make it?” several asked.
  “As far as the Brae Court.”
  “Wow. And ya didn't get in trouble?”
  “No. Unless youse guys told anyone.”
  “Nah, nobody told!”

  The spark of curiosity and exploration innate in young men does not come without its risks of injury and trouble.