I was about 8 years old when my neighborhood friends, Laura and Sarah, got sick of all the cars speeding down our block. They were twins and two years older than I, so they pretty much ganged up on me and I pretty much did what they said until the day I got so fed up that I cracked a stick over Laura's (Sarah's?!) head.
So one day after a particularly speedy racer drove by, we came up with a public service message to be delivered to anyone who passed. The plan was for my younger brother to lie in the middle of the street with his bicycle beside him, as if he had just fallen. Then Laura, Sarah and I would wait on the side of the road for a car. As the car neared, we were to walk out into the street and hold our hands up to signal the driver to stop. Then we were to sing Stop! in the name of us, before you kill our friend! a la The Supremes.
Once the car had stopped and we had sung our piece, Sarah planned to walk over to the driver's window and give a little prepared speech about the Very Serious Dangers of Speeding Down a Residential Street and how all the kids on the block would appreciate it if they would just slow down when driving through. Then we would carefully help B up and walk him to safety.
If that went over well, we were going to work on some flyers to pass out too.
We practiced a lot when there was no traffic.
The problem was B didn't want to lie in the street when a car was coming. And I didn't really want to explain to my mother how I got my little brother run over. And then our song didn't really make sense without him. And we couldn't come up with a better song.
And really, we were just chicken.