The Native Iowan

When I was a kid we did what we called “hotdogging” on our bicycles.

There was a sand-lot a few blocks away where we’d go and raise hell. The uneven ground suited some aerobatics, and if you did it right you could get real good air off of one particular “jump”. To nail that jump proved you were indeed a Hot Dog.

The ground there was covered in sand-burrs. The risk factor was huge. You get the jump wrong and you ended up in a sad place, covered in burrs.

When you got it wrong you weren’t a Hot Dog, you were a Wienie.

Wienie has become a word, for me, synonymous with “almost but no cigarillo”… A Wienie is a Hot Dog that failed.

The more I look and see and listen I find more and more Wienies than I do Hot Dogs.

Kinda’ sad. I grew up in a world of would-be Hot Dogs. Dare Devils. Risk takers. I do believe those days are gone, past, lost… unless of course you are part of my tribe. We still believe in raising Hot Dogs…

More later