I was lucky enough to grow up with dozens of cousins. Since we all lived in close proximity, would guess that the neighborhood thought we were a gang. There were gangs growing up in our small city, but somehow we never crossed their paths, nor they ours. Perhaps they knew we existed, but were afraid of us because we could shoot peas out of a pea shooter from the roofs of abandoned buildings with them never knowing from where they got "pinged".
Wandering further than instructed was a secret that was well kept by all of us. No snitches in this group. Every week the comics distributor would tear off the cover of last weeks unsold comics and they were dumped at the city "dump" as it was called then. Today, we know the dump as "landfills". Still find that a landfill is where they collect anything people do not want - a place to dump trash. While the walk was four miles from the neighborhood, it was taboo and punishable to wander this far. Taboo to kids? Are you kidding?
Why buy comics when you could get your fill of Blondie, Archie, and Tarzan minus the cover for free. With ten of us that could carry ten to twenty comics, there was much swapping during the week until the next trip. On the way there, a stop at the local candy store meant we loaded up with all the sugar that kept us bouncing off walls for the next couple of days.
We thought our parents were clueless as to what plans we had for the summer day, but they always seemed to possess a sixth sense, or so we thought. Someone would see us and snitch, so this sixth sense stuff went out the window. Did it stop the comic collection caper at the dump? Not hardly, and punishment was always worth another trip.
There were many adventures that kept us physically fit. Foot power was certainly the only way to get to where we wanted to go. Cannot imagine asking Dad for a ride to the dump to collect comics. While our capers may not have been prudent, they sure were fun.