That's what being a kid meant. Breaking things.
Roller skates were also nothing like today's inline versions. The wheels
didn't even have the benefit of being made of hard clay they were hard
metal. Why this was considered a good idea defies logic.
My neighborhood was constructed so that the rows of tract houses sat on
embankments above the street. Perhaps this was meant to suggest that the
street was a canal in this desert city and our cars like Venetian gondolas,
taking us to wondrous and magical places like Sears Roebuck and Montgomery
Ward. Whatever the reason, it meant that the driveways were all curving
inclines, making going around and around in circles on your childhood
vehicle of choice that much more ... exciting.
At the foot of each driveway was a mailbox, placed high enough so the
mailmen (there were no mailwomen) could slip your mail in easily without
actually exiting their little Jeeps. Then they'd scoot to the next house,
the sound of that motor and the opening and closing of mailbox doors an
announcement (to children like me whose only thrills were visits by the
street sweeper, the ice cream truck, and the mailman to brighten our
otherwise dull-as-a-cardboard-box-of-hammers days) that there was something
to go do.