The Bicycle

When we were boys in Penzance, Marvin and I would accompany each other to school each day. Marvin would ride his bicycle and I would travel on foot. Marvin had the finest bicycle in all of Cornwall but would seldom allow me to ride.

What a bicycle it was. Its front wheel gleamed in the sunlight whilst the back wheel spun twice as fast, like a toddler waddling as fast as he could, trying to keep up with his older brother. For this is how I felt, walking beside – or rather, behind – Marvin as he proudly rode his bicycle through the streets of Penzance, my calls for him to slow down getting lost in the wind. And who could blame him? A bicycle such as that should be ridden with speed. As envious as I was, I could not help but admire that bicycle and Marvin certainly looked a splendid sight atop of it.

There was one occasion when I was able to persuade Marvin to trade a ride on his bicycle for a kick of my football. This was a bargain indeed, as footballs where scarce at the time. To the best of my knowledge there were only three in existence in Penzance.
“You can ride it, but you have to give it back to me before we enter the school gates,” Marvin said.
“Why is that?” I asked.
“I want the other kids to see me. It is mine and I want everyone to know it.”
I nodded hastily, eager to climb onto the riding seat. Marvin gave me a boost up and soon I was away.
“Don’t go too fast!” he yelled as I rode down the lane through the town square. How I felt that day! I still remember riding down by the docks with the morning sea breeze blowing through my curly hair and in that moment, I thought I was the happiest boy in the world. My pleasure was cut short when I heard Marvin call out to me.

“Oi! The deal’s off! The football landed in the sea. I want my bicycle back!”
“But I haven’t finished. The deal was a ride of the bicycle for a kick of my football.”
“I said the deal is off. Now get off!” And with that Marvin pushed me off the bicycle. I landed with a thud on the pavement, scraping my knees. These actions were not uncommon from Marvin. He often committed similar acts of bastardry, earning himself the moniker, The Mercenary of Penzance.
“I’ll save you a seat in class!” Marvin shouted behind him as he rode away.

I looked at my football, bobbing pitifully in the sea. There was nothing for it. I plunged into the cold seawater and swam towards it, my freshly scraped knees stinging like hell. I arrived at school just as the bell rung, soaking wet but with a smile on my face. I had ridden the bicycle and the feeling lingered with me. From then on, I wore my riding gloves every day in the hope that I would get another turn on that beautiful machine.