The Wicked Willow That Haunted My Brother
Just stop looking at it!
It was an exciting day. My little brother was going to learn to ride a bike.
As for me, I was already a master cyclist at age seven, confidently tooling around the neighborhood with my orange Schwinn banana-seat roadster. It had tasseled high-rise handlebars and the Jack of Spades clothespinned to the rear spokes for motorcycle effect. My rig was indisti…
