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that we not let him down , that we not destroy the faith he had in our ability to act responsibly and he warned us that as we sowed so should we reap . Now , giving a tiny , almost inaudible sigh he ever so slightly shook his head . " Dismissed ." Humbly we filed out and returned to our classroom

At noon the five of us raced out the door , around the corner of the school where we skidded to a stop . Mr . T . had a new car ! We had all heard our parents joke about Mr . T .’ s car , a battered old clunker , even when they had been his students . This morning he had been driving that wreck ; now in its place was a sparkling new Ford . The paint gleamed , the chrome glittered and Mr . T ’ s eyes shone as he told an admiring group of teachers how never in his life had he owned a spanking — I winced — new car . That was why , he told them confidentially , he had closed the boys ’ playground temporarily . It was too near the parking lot and his new car . He didn ’ t want his new car to fall victim to a foul ball , a wayward stone , or any prank liable to be perpetrated by those Grade Five felons . We crept guiltily home for lunch . After lunch , the five of us gathered on the hill overlooking the school . We could see the streetcars swaying down the road . In fact , by lying with our ears against the rails , we could hear them coming long before we could see them — a trick we had learned from frontiersmen and Indian scouts at the Saturday matinees .

Our last two lunch hours had been occupied in testing the durability of various objects placed under the wheels of a streetcar . We began by putting pennies on the rail , but soon realized we were destroying future admissions to the movies . Bottle caps replaced pennies but these proved unexciting . Then Jim fashioned a crude house from popsicle sticks , and soon we had scrounged enough discarded sticks to fashion a half dozen similar houses . Today would see the destruction of a village by a rampaging locomotive , its throttle jammed open by the bullet-ridden body of its engineer shot dead by bandits .

Soon , the familiar rattle of the streetcar heralded its arrival and , moments later transformed by our imaginations into a careering steam engine , it ploughed through the fragile popsicle community accompanied by bloodthirsty cheers from the bushes where we had hidden ourselves .

As the streetcar clattered down the hill , we surveyed the wreckage and decided that the devastation was not worth the effort of searching out more popsicle sticks . We sought other less demanding ways of testing the destructive power of the city ’ s streetcars .

Again , the Saturday matinee proved invaluable by providing the idea of a heroine tied to the tracks by a heartless , black-mustachioed villain . Dennis , who lived just one street over , generously volunteered one of his sister ’ s dolls . We accepted enthusiastically . Minutes later the doll was trussed to the rails and we awaited the next streetcar ’ s arrival .

The streetcar topped the hill , went down the hill and entered the curve , leaving behind the shattered body of a doll . That was all . Those tiny fragments were unable to supply even our fertile imaginations the tension felt on those Saturday afternoons spent watching a heroine writhing frantically against her bonds , her despair mounting as the train steamed ever closer and closer , until the film was ruined by the appearance of the hero .

The warning bell sounded from below , signaling the end of our brief spell of freedom . Trudging down the hill , Jim reminded us of the movie where a gang of outlaws derailed a train carrying a shipment of gold . John Wayne had foiled the robbery but not the derailment . We looked at each other . Could it be done ? Or , once again , would we find the movies more real than real life ?

Finally , we were at the proving ground . Jim had scavenged from somewhere two twenty-four inch pieces of angle-iron . Each piece fitted perfectly into the space between the rail and the asphalt roadway . We waited , skepticism writ large on each face . From our vantage point in the hedge surrounding the schoolyard , we could see not only the tracks but also Mr . Tinker inspecting his new car . Taking

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