Thursday, June 13, 2013

A Thought on Tire Swings

Tire swings look like this.



Sometimes they also look like this.



For me, they always look like this, and this is the tire swing we're going to be talking about tonight.

These are usually located at neighborhood parks by the other swings. They are attached singularly by three chains tied to a heavy-duty coil connected to a large iron pole system that touches the ground at four separate points, which also serve as boundary lines of how far the tire swing can and will go to crush wandering children under its speed and force.

These tires can be ridden in two main ways.

1-
One kid sits in the tire with their back against one third of the tire and their legs hanging off the other two thirds, with their bottom in the middle and their hands grasping desperately on two of the chains. The other kids push them.



2- 
All the kids sit in the tire, circling it, with their bottoms on the tire edge and their feet in front of them, holding on to a piece of chain or whoever is closest to a piece of chain, as some creepy uncle or lonely teenager or scaredy-cat pushes them.



The thing about these tire swings is that you absolutely cannot play with them by yourself. It just doesn't work.
This is because

1- Your weight is only focused on one third of the tire, and the imbalance prevents it from being used properly.

and

2- You cannot push yourself.

That's because of the science of the tire swing. With normal swings, it is fun and relaxing and you can pump your legs and watch the clouds and stay there forever all by yourself. But with the tire swings? Absolute death. Screaming and crying and clutching the dirty chains with dirty little hands, little-kid arm muscles straining, sinews snapping as you spin. This is because tire swings do not just swing, and they do not just spin.

They spin inside of a spin, and they swing inside of a swing.



They are death inside of death, and they are fear inside of fear.

I was at a park sitting in a tire swing today with my two-year-old sister, and was gently spinning and swinging the best I could with no one to push us, when six little kids with skinny brown legs and lollipops in their mouths walked up and stood there watching us. Accepting that we were outnumbered, I quietly removed ourselves from the situation and stood outside of the death boundaries and watched the six kids play.

There are two kinds of kids on the playground, and there are two kinds of people on the earth. There are the ones in the tire, and there are the ones outside of the tire.

The kids inside the tire are there for one of 5 reasons:
1- They like the feeling of death.
2- They don't want to be left out.
3- They were dared to.
4- They like to.
5- They're hopelessly in love with the kid who wanted to push.

The kids outside the tire are there for one of reasons:
1- They like the feeling of murder.
2- They want to prove their strength.
3- They were forced to by whiny kids.
4- They like to.
5- They're hopelessly in love with the kid who wanted to swing.

Most kids are both, and for all the reasons above.

I like watching kids play on the tire swing. It forces strangers to benefit from strangers and friends to benefit from friends, and when you're spinning at 40 miles an hour and the tears are being sucked from your eyes and your shoes fall off and your thin little fingers start to slip, and every tiny muscle in your body is pulling and straining and it feels like you're dying, you know you're not alone.

You can never be alone, with a tire swing.


And that's where I want to die.

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