Bike Story
Growing up on a farm in rural New Brunswick in the 1950's was adventurous. That we lived close to the river on a plateau, with the river bank in front and the hills behind us, added to the possibilities. The summers were long, hot and busy.
One summer day my cousin, Burtt, and I were looking for something new to do. Snooping around in the granary, we found my father’s old bike that he used as a boy. It looked really solid and useable. The tires were hard rubber so--no flat tires. That it did not have a chain presented a problem but it was surmountable.
It was decided that the bike would hold the two of us. If we pushed it up the hill behind the barn, we could have a nice long run down through the pasture. The public road went up the hill but if we used the field traffic would not be a problem. After all, we slid down that hill many times in the winter without mishap. The cows and the pony would move out of the way. We had this all very well planned and, we thought, "What could go wrong?"
So off we went taking turns pushing the bike. Halfway up the hill, we translated "a solid bike" to "a very heavy bike." As we pushed and sweated we were thinking of that long, lovely ride down. Did I mention this was a hot sunny summer day?
Finally THE TOP! Burtt, being 18 months older and a boy, was in front to steer. I remember this as being--his decision. I was to sit on the hard seat and just hang on. We arranged ourselves on the bike and off we went. Picking up speed as we raced down the hill. Wow! What a great idea!
About 100 feet down the hill, just as we were really getting the hang of it--disaster happened. We hit a hardened and, I am sure giant, cow pattie. Off we went flying through the air–ass over tea kettle--landing in the grass and, probably, other patties. I had a few scrapes and bruises. Burtt, on the other hand, being a boy, sustained a more painful injury.
End of story. No further bike trips on the hill happened. The bike went quietly back to the granary. And, in case any of you were worried, Burtt is now a great-grandfather.

Spider

This guy made the largest web just overnight. Granted he is a big guy but still!

Family History

Why does anyone do it? They must be crazy. I have spent the day working on about a dozen pages of TRIBE's. Sample from Arthur's Book:
The story runs that William Tribe and his partner - for he worked in partners with another man - were one night in winter riding together on the Down in the neighbourhood of the famous Beachy Head, each mounted on one [of] the pair of horses which drew their van with which they were wont to do their 'business', and perhaps were even then in the act of riding them out to hitch them on the van. A snowstorm was raging at the time, with a fury which one who has battled with the elements in that bleak neighbourhood, - as has the writer- can appreciate.*
Blinded by the fury of the storm, and baulked by the intense darkness, they rode nearer the famous Head than they intended, and before they realized their danger were upon the extreme edge of the cliff. Escape was impossible!
(*I find since writing the above that it is improbable that a van was employed by the adventurers, owing to the need for great mobility. Pack-saddles were probably used. AWT)
Down they went over that awful height, down that sheer drop of [blank] feet to the beach below; down to what they must have realized as utter destruction.
Almost, it would seem, by a miracle, our ancestor escaped with his life; his horse was killed. His companion was less fortunate and lost his life, though his horse survived; William Tribe therefore rode out on his companion's horse; the state of the tide at the time is not recorded. History neglects to say whether our ancestor brought his late comrade's body out with him, or whether he informed the Eastbourne Coastguard of the accident and sent them to the rescue of his unfortunate partner-in-crime. As, however, his intent and inclination up to that time had been to avoid the 'men in blue' as much as possible, the latter supposition is not at all probable.
Another story I must give, and this one bears a greater foundation of fact than the other, and comes from a member of the family alive at the present time. It is interesting as showing the tenacity and bulldog courage of our doughty ancestor. This story is undoubtedly true as the authority is unimpeachable.
William Tribe was one day cornered by the coastguard and 'held up' by one of them whilst in the pursuit of his calling and accompanied by his horse. He was unable to escape, and, reconciling himself to the loss of his stock-in-trade, he determined to defend his own precious person and life to the last. He fought the exciseman for two hours, with a club against his sturdy opponent's trusty sword, and, after a fierce struggle, was at last successful, though he came out of the encounter with a broken skull. This, however, was but a detail in those stirring times. The date and place of the struggle are unknown, but the scene was probably the neighbourhood of Beachy Head, Crow Link and Birline Gap, three places on the coast surrounding the Downs, close together, and formerly well known as smuggling resorts.
After this affray, our ancestor had his skull mended with silver filling, and eventually settled in Kent, in the neighbourhood of Tenterden, where he married. I am unable to learn whether he from this time discontinued his smuggling exploits, or whether the ride over Beachy Head occurred before or after his marriage, but at all events I have it on good authority that he was by no means a good provider for his large family. His son John declared that he never had a meal at home after he was seven years of age, but was obliged to go out to work, and I suppose, to live away from home.

Relaxing

I really like this picture. It is what I want to do in the my golden years.

Just relax in a beautiful setting and watch the world go by.

This is a tryout.