That reminds me of something I did as a child Dachs…
Mum and Dad were keen cyclists back in the fifties and I was soon put on a bike and taught to ride a two wheeler without stabilizers. I was three when I learnt to ride. One day I told my mum that I would ride up the road to meet dad coming home from work after his shift at 2:00pm. I rode to the end of the lane and no dad…I knew the way to his works about three miles away because he used to take me on a child seat on his bike to go and collect his wages on a Thursday. I set off along the main road hoping to see him coming in the opposite direction. I got all the way to his works and didn’t see him. Apparently he had not used the lane but had taken the long way round and that’s why I missed him. I waited outside the factory gates with several people asking me what I was doing there, and where I had come from…They all knew my dad. Before long dad turned up on his bike having rode all the way back to work to find me…He was so pleased to see that I was safe, I didn’t even get into trouble, but I had the long ride home on tired legs, I guess I was only about three or four years old, but it must have been the start of my long distance exploits both running and cycling…
I grew up with other children from the neighbouring houses. Usually played on the green out the front, walking our dog, whichever one we had at the time, over the rec. and as a family we went camping a lot, with several others. There, I would stay in the tent, writing or maybe reading. Or being with our dog, who always joined us.
I was quite introverted when young so didn’t always join in. I most probably spent half my time reading.
I was one of those dangerous speed merchants who was into roller skates as soon as I could blag some to call my own. In those early days it was the 4-wheel (truck) variety, but later on I really got into in-line wheeled skates for even more speed. The biggest snag was public pavement/road surfaces with parks offering much better surfaces, especially when closed to general public (over the wall 
)
Ah yes, that reminded me. We made jiggers and would hurtle down a hill in an area that was (considered) unsafe and we were prohibited from going to. Didn’t stop us, lol.
I suppose it’s part of growing up…I bought one of these from a sports shop in Tooting with a school mate when I was eleven.
The bands on these were seriously strong, I could barely pull it… probably just as well.
Some of the kids at school had one of these to take out and play with…a must!
My mum put her foot down on that one 
Mr Foxy
We had school bikes from about age five. Then, for secondary, we had the school bus available for six miles but mostly I used my bike. Up hill and down - good old Kirriemuir.
Making Boats. From the wreckage of ww2.
Sheet of corrugated iron, from air raid shelters.
One would lie on, the others wrap up the sides Tack in the ends of wooden boxes. Seal with dollops of roadside tarmac. Old milkcrates the jetties.
Regatta time was a hoot. As the ends fell out.
With pals sat in the cold river, With only their, Essential.
School Cap and Tony Curtis quiff showing.
Well done your mum!
I’ve seen what air pistols do to animals - my neighbours cat had four pellets lodged in it’s stomach.
Jezzz That’s a memory jolt.
A railway bridge blocked each end to keep cattle in.
Called the Stockade
Nominated. Injuns one end. With willow bows and ‘Dads’ bamboo stick, plant support, as arrows.
Cowboys the other. With as you show Airgun .177 pellets. Firing at each other. Most falling in between.
Purpose. Who gets a Cow. And who gets >>
All the way to the Wigwam.
In reflection. Surprisingly no recollection, that anyone was more than Stung.
My childhood was very much like most in the US.
We stayed outside with our friends most of the day playing together. It might have been marbles on the sidewalk, roller skating along the sidewalks in back of our houses (at 11years old, I had a shy neighborhood boy who would knock on our back door, and ask if I could skate from 4 to 5 pm before dinner). Always in summer walking to the neighborhood public pool and swimming for the afternoon!
Then, about 10 years old or so, there was always a softball game in the park field, girls and boys!
My nickname was scorch!
Oh, and also the neighborhood gang congregated at someone’s front steps with a small record player, and the box of 45’s…turned up the volume and danced with each other. Some made memories at a young age being held lightly and swaying to the music! The softball games and the music times were my favorite.
Seeing those lead slugs brought back an old memory.
When I was 14, me and a mate was up in the hills exploring. I had gotten about 200 meters ahead when suddenly something hit me in the side of my head and forcefully knocked me to the ground.
My mate had shot me with his air rifle which fired lead slugs. I laid on the ground with blood pouring out pretending to be dead.
He came running up, crying loudly and screaming, “I did not mean to hit you, I fired above you”
I laid prostrate for about a minute before showing him I was alive. Poor kid was in a right state thinking he had killed me.
We told no one. The lead slug was hidden in my hair so could not be seen. It stayed there for 6 weeks until the swelling went down and I removed it with tweezers
Some fond memories there.
Yes, they can certainly do some damage. I did have airguns when I was a bit older and used them for plinking which was great fun, I spent hours shooting at all types of different targets.
Hopefully when I move to Scotland next year I’ll get one although I’ll have to apply for a licence from the police.
You don’t need a license in England.
This was my gun of choice when I was a boy, a Dianna 7 .144, it was actually my Dads sort of ‘handed down’ and it wasn’t the only thing he handed down, a clip around the ear if I didn’t use it responsibly… 
I used to buy these paper targets and fire darts into an old blackboard and easel down the end of the garden with it. Eventually fitted a telescopic sight to it and Dad said I looked like a proper little sniper…I think that’s what he said ? 
Sounds like good times.
I had a Diana rifle and a pistol (both .177). Not very powerful but the cheapest and most of us had that make. A Webley was to be really admired.
Four of us had a club room in my mate’s house cellar. We were sitting around a table chatting when the friend sitting opposite me suddenly pulled out his pistol and shot me in the chest. I was more incensed than injured and asked why he would do that!? He said he just wanted to see how it felt. I got my pistol out to return the compliment and he sprang at me. We fought for a while and I eventually managed to fire a shot into his clothing, far enough out so the barrel shooting out wouldn’t hit him. So lucky these things were low on the powerful scale.
He asked if we were quits. I agreed and that was that. Still stayed good friends surprisingly.
Vivid memories, Bob. Unbelievable that you started biking at so early an age. I had to wait a little longer until I was tall enough to ride one of the two bikes in our home which were left somehow intact after the bombing. There used to be only city bikes with 28" front and rear wheels and , mostly, with strange-looking Dutch-style “sit up and beg” handlebars, too high for a young boy. The height of the bike was adjusted from two directions: by mounting a thin saddle with no springs or shock-absorber directly onto the frame and by using wooden pedal blocks. But still I was shifting around on the saddle for some time. No pics, unfortunately. As funny as it may have looked, it was great to ride them and to become mobile. Now I could cycle to lakes for bathing and, as my major achievement, at the age of 8 or so I cycled to my grandma’s home which was 13 km away. That was a big journey for me. I never fell off the bike which was a little short of a miracle.
My younger years I grew up around the world. I remember learning to play marbles in Turkey.
Then when my dad went to Vietnam, me and my 3 brothers had to help my grandpa on the farm. When our chores were done we had to walk about a mile down to my uncle’s farm and see if he had any chores for us to do.
If my grandpa was plowing or planting we had to walk the field and look for arrow heads, spear heads, etc, we found around 50 or so. The year we stayed there. On our free time we would go fishing or swimming in grandpas lake.
Then we went to Germany for 5 years. That is were I learned to ice skate. Me, my brothers and other kids would go and explore the Siegfried Line. We would explore the bunkers and the fighting positions that we could find. We found nazi coins, medals, helmets and a lot of ammunition. My brother found a machine gun and another kid found a bazooka and the MPs those those.
We would make forts in bomb craters. We would race down Exit road, that was about a mile and half down hill, until a boy wiped out and was in the hospital for a long time. During the winter we would snow skate down the hill that was beside Exit road. It had a lot of bomb craters a small wooded area and a few barbwire fences going down the hill, which made it fun and dangerous. And at the bottom you had to make sure you stopped before you got to the river or you would get all wet, then cold.
We had a basket ball meet, a baseball team but we had to go to Bitburg to get enough kids for a football team.
Then we moved to Mississippi and I consider that my home because that was the long time I had spent in the States in one place. That is where we pick up hunting and fishing. Plenty of swamp land and rivers for fishing. Where I got my first job that paid for the work. 5¢ per bale of hay to get it out of the field, to the barn and up into the loft. We could move around 100 bales in a trip. Where I learned to pick tobacco and hang it in smoking sheds.
Swapping beads … my collection was kept in a Golden Virginia tobacco tin.
Riding my bike …
Building dens
Springtime …picking Bluebells primroses ,cowslips and collecting Tadpoles.
All very un pc now, but then the fields and woods were full of ponds and flowers
Reading Enid Blyton , Frances Hodgson Burnett .
and others…I remember crying over Black Beauty…