I was 10 years old when my Father brought me a motor scooter, a Cushman, from Nebraska. He came hauling it home tied to the back bumper of his car. My Mother wasn't very happy, to say the least. I was too small to hold it up when not in motion. Dad would run with me to get it going, then I would ride it around the block until I was tired or wanted to stop. Then I'd holler at Dad and he would run out and catch me. In less than a week I was riding fine without any help. As it would run about 45 miles per hour, Dad mounted a governor stop so it would only go slow. I would get out of his sight and slide the governor off and it would run like %&^%$! When he was near, I'd slide the governor back on. After a time it broke and he just left it off
Covington, OK is a small town where everyone knows everyone and everyone knew me. Dad built me a trailer to tow behind the scooter and I became the town delivery boy. At 10 years old I delivered, ice, groceries, newspapers and anything else I could carry in the trailer.