My Brother My Friend

Though Dale was six years older than me, we were best friends both as kids and after we were both married. I guess I shouldn't say just friends because he was also my protector. He was the best brother any girl could ask for. I have so many precious memories of him that I really don't know which one to pick, but I guess this time it will be about the bike.

I don't know if I was a tag along or if he just took me with him everywhere, but before I could ride a bike he would put me on the bar of his to ride. One warm summer day that is just what he had done, but he was going really fast and I was hanging on extra hard to the handle bars as we went to turn into our yard. You guessed it! Me hanging on so tight hampered him from making a complete turn and we ended up in the ditch. I was on the bottom, then Dale, and lastly the bike. I remember Dale's first words, "Don't tell Mom!!!" He didn't yell at me, blame me, or just haul his bike out and leave me there to fend for myself. He asked me if I was hurt and then, after looking around to make sure no one was watching, helped me out of the muddy ditch. We were both a mess, but he was worse off than me. We made it into the house and to the bathroom without Mother seeing us. Dale first cleaned the mud off my clothes and bandaged my knees and elbow, and then tried to repair his fat lip and cuts on his face. I get a hoot out of it now as I remember sitting on the toilet watching him try to clean his face up and wondering how we were going to get away with it. Dale was afraid he would really be in trouble for getting me hurt, and I was afraid of getting him in trouble because he had taken me with him. Somehow we got away with it without Mother ever finding out. It never occurred to me to tell on him. You see he was my brother and my friend and you never tell on a friend. Now that experience is just another precious moment in time that I wish I could go back to.