Kitchen Carts

I am a fan of all racing from demolition derby to formula one speedsters. If you opt to race it, I’ll be there. I remember when I was eleven. I tried to talk my brother into a downhill race with my mother’s and aunt’s kitchen carts. I can see it now. Pepper mills to frying pans flying all over the place, while my brother and I are risking our very lives flying down the hill on Maple St. He suggested that I see a therapist instead. He wants me to practice using a wheel chair, since he believes I will certainly need one someday.

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