Perma-Press One

In the early seventies, my family moved from Rosedale Street in Stop Six to Thrall Court in Polytechnic Heights, or Poly as everyone called it. When we lived on Rosedale we didn't have neighbors, so my brother and I never really played with any other kids. We never really played with each other, come to think of it. We usually just argued and beat the shit out of each other when we weren't exploring or destroying things.

On Thrall Court we had friends, or at least we had other kids around to play with. The first kid from the neighborhood I can remember is Albert Dunlap. Albert was a couple of years older than us, and he's the first one to approach and welcome us to the 'hood. We thought he was either the scouting party for the group or the one that had lost a bet. He seemed like an alright guy, kind of stocky with an Elvis Presley Haircut. He had a younger brother, Tommy, and a sister, Rita.

Albert's Dad, Gene, was quite a peculiar person at first blush. He stood about six foot four and was thin. He had wavy hair and long side-burns and would always have a toothpick in his mouth. He worked for the water department and always seemed to be wearing his work uniform no matter what was going on. He drove a Toyota sedan, which was very uncommon in those days. It was like a swimming pool blue color and was small. It struck me as a clown car, with him having to wedge himself in and out of it.

Gene was cool though. He was always joking around, doing goofy stuff like winking both eyes, making hen clicks while strutting like a chicken, and crap like that. But the coolest thing about Gene of all: He had the toys!

Gene was one of those guys who were always working on something. He had a motorcycle (Honda or Yamaha) and was alway tuning it to try to make it run better. When he would get it to where he thought it was running perfect he would go out and race it up and down the street, sometimes popping wheelies. Gene also had a Cushman three-wheeled truck, which was used by the Post Office back then in Fort Worth.

He had taken this thing and stripped it down, painting popular cartoon characters on the sides and back. Foghorn Leghorn, Casper, Daffy Duck, The Flintstones...They were all on there. On the front above the windshield, it proclaimed "HERE IT COMES!" and on the back top "THERE IT GOES!". He would take the kids in the 'hood for rides down to the store and we would just have a blast seeing the looks on peoples faces.

Gene also built everyone in the neighborhood skateboards. He had acquired quite a number of boards somewhere and then purchased the trucks to go with them. The trucks were metal and, unlike the later polyurethane wheels, were very rough and unforgiving. But hell, we had fun!

The thing that Gene was probably the best at was taking something and making it better, or just coming up with brilliant ideas at the spur of the moment. He taught us how to make go carts, kites, sleds, etc.

WHOA! Sleds? In Texas?

Yup, sleds in Texas! Being in north Texas we weren't immune from snow and ice. It didn't happen often but it did happen. White death would visit us about once every three years or so. It was always a joyous occasion when we did get snow. (Now that I live in Ohio, I just wonder WHAT THE HELL WERE YOU THINKING!?!) Of course it didn't last long, so we had to make the best of it in short order. You can always tell when someone hasn't seen much snow. They act like they know what they're doing, but really don't have a damned clue. Trust me, our snowmen were genetically defective and anatomically incorrect.

My first year on Thrall Court was welcomed with an ice storm. We had no idea what to do with ice except fall down and bust our ass, but we did do that with glee, inventing ways to fall down. When we weren't actually trying to fall down, we would walk real funny...shuffling our feet and holding our arms out like a Penguin. Come to think of it I think Tommy Dunlap had a black coat on, unzipped with a white shirt underneath. Anyway, my brother and I slid on down to the Dunlap's house and we were immediately confronted by Albert, who appeared to be way too excited about something. Albert informed us that we were going sledding! He took us into his garage and there was Gene, tinkering with an ironing board. I asked him what he was doing and Albert, hardly able to contain himself, said "He's making us a sled!" I was looking at the ironing board and thinking, "Boy, Mrs. Dunlap is really gonna be pissed off when she gets home".

Thrall Court was a fairly long street, about fifteen houses long from the beginning to the cul-de-sac at the end, and it was a slope from beginning to end. That slope got me into more trouble than anything else in the neighborhood.

We took the "Sled", which we knick named "Perma Press One", to the top o' the hill and began our adventure. Me, My brother Jerry, and Albert loaded onto the board and off we went, using the legs of the ironing board for handles. It wasn't until we were about midway through the ride that we realized we had no way of steering this thing. As we veered to the left we noticed a '68 Catalina, one of the largest cars of that era, parked on the side of the road and approaching us at light speed (Metal + Ice = Supersonic Speed!). When we dove off ol' Perma, we slid about fifty yards or so. Jerry and Albert ended up in a field to the right, while I ricocheted off the Pontiac, into a bush, finally coming to rest in a neighbor's flower garden.

According to Jerry, they thought I was dead. Well, obviously, I wasn't dead, but at that time I wished I were. I had just lay there for a minute, looking for the angels and completing the Rosary. When I didn't see any angels and realized that I was in some amount of pain and my ass was freezing, I got to my feet and started walking back up the hill. About that time Jerry, Albert and Gene came running down and asked if I was alright. As I told them yes, I slipped on the ice, causing me to go down face first into the icy road, resulting in a bloody nose and a cut lip. They decided to carry me the rest of the way before I could kill myself or somebody else.

Alas, the legend of Terry Ellis, the one who would conquer any challenge or be maimed trying, was born. At six years old I had faced death and won...But that was the last time in my life I went sledding on fucking ice without a football uniform on.