Odds amd Ends James L. Cowles (c) Copyright 2026 by James L. Cowles

Photo by Warwick Brooke at Wikimedia Commons.

It's a wonder that it worked, and quite surprising that it actually looked as good as it did. The “it” of which I speak, is a pushcart, built from “Odds and ends,” found in our old garage.

My dad had long since decided that he no longer cared to drive in the “big city” of Louisville. That is laughable, and certainly bears explaining. He grew up in Western Kentucky, near the small town of Brownsville, which claimed to have five hundred residents. I really doubt that the town was that big, but dad told me, “I can drive down in the country, son, but driving in Louisville scares me to death.” My dad did not exhibit nervousness that I ever saw, but then, I never saw him drive. Mom said it was true, so dad sold his old Ford, and he and the family walked everywhere, or caught a streetcar, or bus to get around the city.

The decision not to own an automobile meant that the interior of our old one car garage would ultimately become one big pile of “odds and ends,” lumber, old ice boxes, an old swing, nuts and bolts, the base of an old wooden table, wooden crates, etc., etc. About anything leftover, of no current use, or of little value, was moved from the house, or back porch, to the garage. The two garage doors on the alley side were nailed shut, and the door on the yard side had a simple piece of wood with a nail through it, used to hold the door closed. There was no need to worry about a real lock because there was nothing of real value inside. That's what dad said, but I had a different opinion. I saw it as being full of adventure and opportunity.

Many times, I would stand in the alley, waiting for the old ragman, and sell him some bit of treasure I had found in our garage. A nickel from something I had sold to our ragman would buy a popsicle from Tony, our ice cream man, as he came down our street ringing his bell and yelling, “ICE CREAM MAN, ICE CREAM MAN!” Don't tell me there's nothing of value in that old garage.

The truth is, there were a few things I was not supposed to touch without asking dad, but I knew he would never miss them, and I also knew the Ragman would help me find value in many of them. I am happy to say I found value in some of those things myself. For example, when we replaced window shades in our house, dad would save the little strips of wood from the bottom of the shade (Why? I have no idea). They seemed useless to me at first, then I thought, “Hey, these things would make a great brace for a homemade kite. Low and behold, I must have made a dozen of them over the years. They were sturdy indeed, made with newspaper and the sort. I remember a special one I made from one of mom's discarded plastic table covers. I flew it one day until it was almost out of sight, even tying it up to a back porch post, while I went inside for dinner. I had let out every bit of string, and the wind almost picked me up, it was so strong and taut. That thing was still flying high when I came back outside an hour or so later. I remember, it took me a long time to wind up all that string, and even dad was impressed. I must have kept that kite, and flew it for several years. It was indestructible.

But, by far, the best thing I ever made from those old “odds and ends,” was my own “Homemade race cart.” It was a beauty.

I couldn't make my cart to Soap Box Derby specs, but it was perfect for me, and our whole neighborhood had fun with it one entire summer, or at least it seems so to me. I know I had fun, as long as I could get Laddy, Bruce, Danny, or someone, anyone, to push me. Remembering it today makes me think of the “Little Rascals” of, “Spanky and our gang.” Growing up in my old neighborhood was much like those old movies, and I feel sorry for kids today who have never experienced that sort of thing. They are missing one of the thrills of life, using their imagination to build something from nothing, or, for example, to have a neighborhood badminton tournament in their back yard, or open a spook house for Halloween (yep, that old garage again, and lots of things from its interior were used in the making). So much is being missed by our kids today. It's a crying shame they can't experience using their hands and minds to build something real. Turn off those computers, those cellphones, kids, and experience the creativity of the hands and mind. And parents, if you take away the cellphone, or computer time from your kids, give them something to occupy their hands and mind as a replacement. Okay, I will no longer stay on my high horse. I’m not an expert, but I know what worked for me.

I suppose that as children, we use what has been provided for us. Those things which our parents put within our reach. Thus, if we are given a cellphone as a child, we will use it in a number of ways, many of them wrought with possible danger. But then, remember, I am not an authority, I just know that many parents are waking up to the dangers of the Internet, and the freedom offered by cellphones. I remember my parents saying, “Jimmy, we lived in a much simpler time,” and I have come to understand its meaning. You know, that “simpler time” thing. Today I can say, “So, did I.”

Let me see, now. I used three pieces of two-by-four boards, part of an old wooden crate, the axles and wheels from my old red wagon, brads from a jar full of them, found on the shelf of our garage, an old bicycle reflector I found in our alley, some old rope hanging from a garage nail, and a variety of nails. Lots of nails, and an old broom handle used to push the race cart, A borrowed hammer from our tool drawer in our kitchen (no one knew I borrowed it, at least until they saw the finished product), A 'not so sharp' saw that caused me to sweat a lot until I convinced Bruce to give it a try (he had to show me how tough he was), and my imagination, well, our imagination. I had to give Bruce some credit, plus the first ride, because he sawed some wood with that old saw (it was worth it, believe me). Oh, and dad's neat folding wooden measure, and a pencil stub to mark the lengths of wood, used for the axle. There may have been a few other things, but you get the picture, I’m sure.

I wish I had a picture of the finished product, but I don’t. I may have traded it for something later on, I can’t remember. But one thing is for sure; it is simply amazing what “Odds and Ends” and a good imagination can do.