For some reason, a bunch of kids from the other end of the neighborhood showed up at The Dead-end, one day. They were on their bikes, and we were on ours, and we didn't really feel like sharing our riding space. A challenge was issued, and we all lined up, facing each other, with about 20 yards separating us.
I had my toy Civil War cavalry sabre, and a couple of the other guys had sticks to use as swords. Sword-fighting was big, in the neighborhood, when I was seven.
"Charge!" I yelled and we all accelerated, us toward the interlopers, they toward us. We rammed into each other in the middle of the street. A couple of bikes and riders went down, while the rest of us engaged in close-in sword-fighting.
It was all over in about 30 seconds, when one of the other kids yelled, "Ow! That hurt!" That seemed to take the steam out of everybody.
We all sat on the side of the road, and looked at each others' scratches and welts. It was a short-lived war, and totally unplanned. Kids played differently, back then, I guess.
Too bad all wars don't end so easily...