The Bicycle

This is another fragmented story.  I have pictures in my mind.  However it is like a jigsaw.  The pieces must fit together but how is unknown.

We lived in Bunker Hill close to Jonestown in a house while I was a toddler. 

I have this photo in my mind of a tricycle or bicycle.  Knowing what age I would have been, it probably was a tricycle.

We had been out and about for the day.  Or maybe we were taking a walk. 

I had decided I didn't want to ride the bicycle anymore.

My father got so angry that he decided was going to sit on it and try to peddle it.  (He was a big man. - 6 foot tall and at least 200 pounds)

I don't think the tricycle was broken.

I sort of remember a car but I don't know how it relates to the story.  I don't think my mom drove.  She may have until a certain point.  

So weird of a memory.  

It just shows you how his anger took over.

Traci