You might also like:
Being raised poor; i cant remember much about the wagon my family had. But i remember bits & pieces of using a red flyer wagon. I remember us neighborhood kids using a wagon to haul bottles around; that we were collecting for the deposit money. We wanted to buy candy & sodas with the money we got. Then there were times we just road in a wagon. We had to take turns pulling each other. There were some steep hills to climb. But it was worth the wait for my turn. Seems as i got older; on emc situations i used a wagon to pull my clothes to the laundry matt, when i had no ride. I used a wagon when i could find one to haul my plants around to do gardening. Last, is the most value meaning in a vision i had once. I saw a wagon coming down through the mid air. The meaning of wagon is "Knowledge". Since then i have received much knowledge. I have even used a wagon to pull books! Every kid should have a wagon in their life time. Should i win; i would like them to be split up between every county hospital in the state of Fl., starting with my county. If not... I choose the Salvation Army.
"We adopted my little brother when I was 8 and he was four months old. From the very beginning, he loved for me to prop him up with blankets and pillows and take him for a ride in our Radio Flyer little red wagon. That wagon truly was an integral part of our play and was used daily unless the weather was bad. Pulling him around soon turned to figuring out creative ways to tow him as soon as he could sit up and hold on. I devised a genius system involving my bicycle, a rope, the wagon, and a 1/2 mile gravel driveway. We flew together with the wind in our hair up and down that driveway until I turned a corner a little too sharply and then I was banned from making alterations to the wagon handle for the rest of our lives (if he were to make it that long with the rest of my creative shenanigans). Luckily, I didn't accidentally scar him for life. Fast forward to 22 years later and we are sitting on the porch laughing and watching my three nieces who are 5, 7, and 8 getting a running start like they are bobsledding, throwing themselves into the wagon at the last possible moment of top speed, holding the handle back, and hanging on for dear life as they race down a hill in the now squeaky and slightly rusty little red Radio Flyer wagon that we loved so dearly. They were bruised and there were a few scrapes, but they loved it so much they just kept pushing the wagon back up the hill and doing it over and over again. Did we stop them?... nope. We sat on the porch and reminisced about all of our childhood escapades with that very same little red wagon and could almost feel the wind in our hair again as we flew together down that gravel driveway years ago. That little red Radio Flyer wagon still lives at Gramma and Papa's house 30 years later and my four little girls create their own memories with it every time they visit. "