I have just come across this thread and would like to make contribution from my own recollections of my childhood, which I am putting to paper for the benefit of my grandsons.
The story is true but I have added a bit of artistic license in the telling of the story to give it a bit of flavour.
The story:-
Prince Edwin Street was quite a steep street, from Netherfield Road down to Thorncliff Street it had been laid with tar over the cobbles, this was to give the vehicles using the street more of a grip on the steep slope, consequently this was an ideal surface for a steering cart.
During the summer holiday, which was the steering cart season the street of an evening would be busy with kids and their steering carts the more adventurous and slightly older kids starting at the top of the hill the less adventurous starting from a position opposite Kat Harrison?s shop, which was about the half way mark.
The less fortunate kids who did not own a cart would willingly pull your cart up the hill for you in the hope of a chance of jumping on the back as you pushed off. This was not frowned upon as the more kids who could pile on a cart, the faster the cart accelerated down the hill. The object being to see who could reach the very bottom of the street, (once you hit the cobbles on a fast moving steering cart, you lost speed quickly or you lost a wheel due to the vibration of the cobbles.) many of the carts were hybrids, that is to say if a kid only had part of a cart built and was missing a pair of wheels (his mother keeping a careful eye on the babies pram) it was often attached to the back of a complete cart, thereby extending it to accommodate more kids (or victims, should there be an accident.) If anyone was unfortunate to lose a wheel while traveling at speed, the pile up could be catastrophic. There would be kids, wheels, arms and legs, pieces of splintered wood, scattered all over the street. The first priority would be to see if the damaged cart could be repaired; any victims of the accident would be attended to at the edge of the pavement, small wounds and cuts, cleaned up with a bit of spit on a spare hanky. The more serious head knocks and nosebleeds would be sent home with a younger brother or sister as an emergency nurse, with the promise of a ride on the cart if they could make up a suitable story to get the cart owner off the hook.
Competition was fierce during a busy evening with many carts of all shapes and sizes taking the slope. A lot of pushing and shoving for a good speck and a clear run down the hill often resulted in a bit of gang rivalry. On one occasion our gang had commandeered the slope and had one major vehicle, comprising one cart and several hybrids, total passengers in excess of twenty kids. The leaders of the gang (who shall be nameless) mad with power and control of the slope had decided to go from the top.
This cavalcade would be flanked by a single cart on either side as outriders and containing the remainder of the passengers (victims.) I am not sure but I think we had a flag on the back of the big cart, for this occasion. With a cheer from the onlookers and those with more sense who had decided not to chance it, the cavalcade moved off.
Once committed there was no turning back. Half way down and just by Kate Harrison?s shop, the attack began. The rival gang jumped out of the entry along side Kate?s shop, stretched a rope across the road and wedged an old sack over the head of one of the outriders. The main spearhead of our cavalcade, entangled in the rope, twisted to one side and tipped the first ten passengers arse over tip all over the road. The second half of the cart split were it had been joined to the front, carried on under its own momentum (minus the front wheel) and ploughed into the rest of the wreckage. Arms, legs, wheels, blood, snot, pieces of splintered timber, blocked the street, the outriders adding to the carnage. The cry?s and screams of the injured cold be heard streets away. Mothers, sisters and uncles, came from every direction to claim their offspring or charges. The owners of the carts salvaged what they could from the wreckage and within minuets the street seemed deserted leaving only a few splinters of wood, some buckled wheels and the dim witted that were foolish enough to stay and take the blame.
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Originally Posted by hmtmaj
It was indestructable !
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