There was that poor kid named Rolf.
Lived just down the street from
here. His parents couldn't afford
him a bike, but he always
dreamed of riding.
One day, he stole a bike from
Dave Adams' garage
and walked it up to the top
of Rogers Hill so he
could ride down it like the devil
on flaming wheels.
He wiped out about halfway down
and bumped his head for good.
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