Death of a Big Wheel

Back when I was 8 years old--sometime in the mid-70s--every single kid on the planet owned a Big Wheel. Everyone, that is, except me. No matter how much I cajoled, manipulated, cried or demanded, my mom would NOT buy me a Big Wheel. She simply did not understand that owning a Big Wheel offered entree into a special kid club, a membership whose only requirement was ownership. And to this day, every time I see a Big Wheel I think back to those tragic days when I was the only kid in the world who didn't possess this special machine. It was a kid's first means of personal conveyance, even before a tricycle, bicycle or car. And now those formative years are forever lost to the death of both my youth and my first true obsession. The death of a Big Wheel.