As a child, I remember ripping through the pages of those wonderful Christmas catalogs that used to fill our mailbox. Each Autumn, we would anxiously wait for them to arrive. The ones we got at our house were from Sears, Montgomery Wards, Spiegel and (later on) Best Products.
We would go through the pages carefully, picking out the items we wanted Santa Claus to bring us that year. The pages became “dog-eared” and there were marks here in there as we tried to narrow down the things we wanted to a manageable number.
I would guess that I received better than 90% of what I asked for, over the years, but there was one present that always seemed to elude me. That gift was a little red peddle car. Man, it was the coolest thing ever. It had a hood that opened, as well as a real trunk. Plus, you could open the doors to get inside. It was practically a real car, except for that no engine thing, but who cares about that?
Every year, I would dream of driving my friends around the neighborhood in my little red sports car, a Jaguar to be specific. It was going to be so great.
Alas, my dream was never to come true. Santa never brought me my little red sports car. Was it that I was naughty? Could be, but I kinda doubt it. I prefer to believe that Santa was looking out for my best interests and didn’t want me to get a speeding ticket before the age of ten.
Oh well. I wasn’t the only one who wanted this little beauty. My sister, Donna, used to ask for it every year too. :D