Mischievous

Growing up is usually not as easy as it seems it should be. Some people just don’t understand how many problems a seven year old boy really can have? Problems like how to smoke a cigar without turning green, how to stop a tire from losing air, or how to get the attention of the entire neighborhood. Such was the extent of the problems I faced when I was seven.

My biological father, Julian Bennett, was quite a prankster and had an appreciation for mischievousness on my part. He would often catch me red handed doing something wrong (on purpose or accident), try as hard as he could to give me a stern look, and then burst out laughing. For some reason he was fascinated by my antics.

A number of truckers were friends to my dad. On this particular day we were visiting one named James. He had a big 18 wheeler truck he kept parked outside his home. While the men were inside drinking coffee I was outside playing with my balsa wood airplane. I flung in once and it landed near James’ huge machine. I cautiously stepped near the truck to retrieve my toy. Gazing at the huge tires I noticed the long valve stems. I had seen my dad put in and release air from his tires through a similar apparatus. But my dad’s truck didn’t have stems this big.

I wondered what it would sound like if I pushed the little pin inside a valve stem to release air like my dad did. I pushed one down with the tip of a sharp stick I found laying nearby. The tire came alive like an angry snake and quickly quieted as I jumped back in surprise. I mustered my courage and tried it again…this time a little longer. I thought I would do it just one more time. This time I got down close because I wanted to feel the tire’s escaping air blowing on my face. I pushed the valve stem nozzle once again with the stick. I could feel the smelly air against my face. I pulled the stick back to stop the flow of air… but the air continued blowing.

I stood there on my knees for a moment trying to figure out what had gone wrong. I pushed the nozzle again and again. I was frantic. It soon became clear the tire was going flat. I knew I needed to tell someone. I grabbed my toy plane in hand and ran to the kitchen and busted through the door where several men, including my dad, were seated around the table.  

All eyes were on me as I quickly told my dad that all the air was coming out of one of James’ tires. I guess I had a guilty look on my face because my dad said, “Allen Dale, what did you do to that tire?” All the men snickered. I looked my dad square in the eyes and came up with a lie without blinking an eye. I explained that I had been flying my balsa wood airplane and it hit the valve stem and all of the sudden air came hissing out of the tire…all by itself...and now the tire was flat. All the men began to laugh hysterically to hear my tale. Someone slapped my dad on the back and told him that his son was as good a liar as he was. I didn’t know whether I should be proud or ashamed. But then my dad began laughing too so I assumed my lie was a good thing. As the future unfolded I began to notice the bigger the lie told the more attention I would get…and this little seven year old boy loved attention.