If I remember right, I was 13 years old when I started doing this; it was pretty much the only job a 13-year old was going to get in my north NJ neighborhood at the time. I delivered "The Wayne Today" which was a twice-weekly publication put out by Harold Matzner, who was better known as the defendant represented by F. Lee Bailey in a then-notorious and convoluted murder case of the 1960's that involved adultery, infidelity, pornography, counterfeiting, and a gay mobster known as Gabriel "Johnny the Walk" DeFranco (in fairness to Matzner, he was ultimately exonerated and I believe it was pretty much proven that the "case" against him was a frame-up by the same corrupt Passaic County officialdom that had it in for Ruben "Hurricane" Carter-- the only book that ever came out on the case that I know about is "Victims of Justice" by Dorothe Matzner and Margaret English). The stacks of papers and their multitude of inserts were delivered en masse to a wooden box located near my house. I would lug the bundles into my parents' laundry room where I would then commence getting them ready for delivery. This was a dirty, tedious procedure that involved wrapping the advertising inserts into the actual newspaper and then inserting the resulting bundle as neatly as possible into a clear plastic bag. To pass the time, my parents provided me with a transistor radio that only seemed to play AM radio, and I remember hearing a lot of "Billy, Don't Be A Hero" and "The Night Chicago Died" and "Seasons In The Sun" while I wrapped, and wrapped, and wrapped, and...the horrible music, of course, did nothing to relieve my adolescent torment; if anything, it increased it. By the time I finished wrapping, my hands were black with newsprint, and felt as if I had been picking cotton in Texas for hours. Then I bundled the wrapped papers into a big canvas bag, slung it over my shoulder, and set out unsteadily on my Schwinn bicycle. Although my route was fairly long, it didn't present too much of a problem until the very end, when I had to pedal uphill on a major roadway that bordered on being a highway. In retrospect, it seems like it was actually pretty dangerous to be riding up that hill on a flimsy bike with that heavy bag causing me to sway and totter ominously toward the oncoming cars, but somehow or other I managed, although if the weather was too hot or too wintry it could be that much more excruciating. At that age, the money helped me buy records and paperback books and comics (those that it didn't help me buy, I stole). At 15, we moved to central Jersey, and I again delivered papers for awhile, but the minimal pay and the dreary nature of the work palled quickly on me and I gave it up for something that seemed a bit more "mature" and lucrative (stocking shelves in a pharmacy...my boss there was a tyrant, and I used to steal condoms, hypodermic needles, and paperback books from him as a sort of compensation for having to take his abuse, but that's another story...). I've been away from 13 years of age and the delivery of newspapers for a long, LONG time now, and I'm sure the nature of newspaper delivery has changed radically. In my neighborhood now, an adult delivers them by car during the pre-dawn hours. In fairness, for a kid (particularly a lazy, uninspired one like me), it wasn't the worst job in the world, and God knows I've had far worse ones between then and now, but it's not an occupation I retain pleasant memories of either.