I thought I might stick with the running theme for a moment and share a second story from the Behind the Photo archive. Meet Dan Bradley – the little engine that could.
BEHIND THE PHOTO — He’s used to the stares. Many can’t help but gawk with curiosity when they see the little cart rolling around the Town of Gorham. “Where’s the whip?” they’ll tease. Or, they’ll point out that “Someone’s got the better end of the deal!”
It’s all part of the charm of this alternative form of transportation that Dan Bradley brought to the community about eight years ago when he decided to fashion his own rickshaw – or “carriage” as his family calls it. Dan bought the metal frame at a garage sale in Geneva for a whopping $5, added bicycle tires and a handmade seat, creating a brand new family tradition – not to mention a great way for the father of eight and lifelong athlete to stay trim.
Back in the day, he helped form the first cross-country team at Marcus Whitman High School. He competed in his first marathon at 25, pushing through a nasty case of strep throat to finish the course in 3½ hours. Now, running is just a hobby. And when he restored what looked like the frame of a pony cart to a usable vehicle, he figured out a way to involve the whole family. At one time, the three youngest and his wife Mary Anne (pictured above) could fit side by side.
On the road, his driving record is clean. No spills to date.
Just once has the balancing act gone astray in the driveway.
“They were all laying on their backs like astronauts ready to leave the pad,” Dan said, unable to hide a grin. It’s something each of the passengers can laugh about now, too, knowing how comfortable he always tried to make the ride, with pillows and blankets in addition to the snacks and magazines that often seem to make it on board.
Generally, balancing the cart isn’t too difficult, he said. It’s more the challenge of going up and down hills that takes some concentration. “Probably the hardest thing to get used to is not being able to swing your arms,” Dan says as he approaches a gentle incline.
Last weekend, I couldn’t resist his offer of a Sunday run, wondering about the sensation of being pulled by another person. Feeling slightly guilty (as I basked in the warm sunshine under a fleece blanket), I was amazed at just how smooth the ride was and how similar it was to a real carriage ride. I was even more amazed by the driver’s stamina.
“This is a little bear of a hill. It’s always a little challenge if I can make it up without walking, but if I do, I do,” he said, choking up on the handles as my guilt swelled.
Back in town, most of the neighbors seemed to recognize him.
“Hello sir. How are you?” Dan asks, his breathing still remarkably calm after the 20-minute run. The gray-haired man responds with a “hup…hup” in military cadence. “Wait ’til she gets the bill,” Dan says.
As we pass by them, others look, then look away, then look again.
“I’ll have to give you a ride sometime. Would you like that?” He asks a young boy and girl, glancing in their direction. “Naw,” the boy says, not knowing what he’s missing.
In eight years, the cart has carried about 100 different passengers, including a priest from Uganda. “I think it’s almost spiritual in a sense,” Dan says after the run, making a loop down the street to cool down. “Almost in a symbolic sense, it’s a way in a stressful society for me to say, ‘Let me carry you through this.’”
