My literary endeavor

(Illustrations available here, sorry I'm not able to get pictures that fit into the post)

"Jim's Summer Fling"

She was lying on the ground. I picked her up easily. She was so light compared to my bike. Her handlebars faced off to one side and her rear fender was bent. Her chain was rusted to the cog.

I took her by the bike shop.
“Jim,” I said reproachfully, “what did she ever do to you?” He had the decency to look ashamed.
“I just needed a bike for a summer class. Then summer was over…”
“She was your summer fling,” I stated. We were both silent, lost in summer memories.

I took her home on the bike rack on the car, stopping for groceries on the way. That was the first time I had brought the groceries home by car in several months. It felt strange, as if something were missing. At home, my bike stared angrily first at the strange injured bike, and then at the groceries in the car. She was accustomed to pulling the groceries home on our trailer.
I am heavy and strong, she seemed to say. What do you need her for? What do you use that car for?

She was particularly angry because I’d left her for three days, and I rode a rental bike while I was gone.
First that purple little w***e, she was muttering, now this broken green thing.

She felt better the next day, when I hitched her up to the big trailer and hauled lumber home with her.
No single speed could have gotten that load up the hill, she boasted. But oh, my aching axle!
She’d broken her rear axle a few weeks ago. I’d ordered the parts for a new wheel last week. I wiggled her rear wheel worriedly, like a loose tooth.

That afternoon, I brought the green single speed inside and began dismantling her. She whimpered at first, and bit and scratched me, but was silent and still soon enough. Her seat and fenders could go on my husband's bike. My bike would get her front wheel. Our daughter's bike would get her albatross handlebars and rack.

Her rack is what had caught my attention a few weeks ago.
“Do you think it’s ethical,” I asked at the bike shop, “to rescue a rack off an abandoned bike?” I described the bike and her location.
“That’s Jim’s bike,” was the disappointing answer.
“Tell Jim he doesn’t deserve a bike he can’t take care of.”

I contemplated her empty slender green frame now. If I could get help removing her pedals, the frame would look great on the wall above the fireplace. She’d like that, I bet.

My husband thought I should build her up to ride again.
“I need a backup bike,” I agreed, “But it’ll be ages before I could get parts enough for her. We need so many things for our bikes. Besides, if I get a second bike, I want a racing bike.” That’s my secret dream these days: to race. I’ve heard it is rougher than bull riding, and I’d feel smug & superior to someone if I did it more than once.

I got the rack on my daughter's bike. It was late, and my back and feet ached. Reluctantly I gathered the scavenged parts up and put my tools away for another day.
It was a beautiful day for a ride, my bike murmured sadly. We could have had so much fun today.
“We’ll take Nell to school tomorrow,” I promised, “And maybe we’ll go for a long ride next weekend.”

The end

Nice story. I like the way you write. Good to hear you could recycle some of Jim's bike. The frame is a pretty shade of green.

Great story. Is there something akin to the ASPCA we could turn Jim over to? Cruelty to bikes. He could have at least found her a good home before she got into bad shape. Thanks for rescuing the ole girl.

Wow. I just woke up from a nap and I dreamed about this story. But it's not good. When you (me) took the bike into the shop and they said 'that's jim's bike' it was different because Jim had been hit by a car:eek:

I enjoyed your story as well.

Jim is a cad:mad:

Jim's actually a nice guy. Although Todd is my patron bike-shop-mechanic, all the guys in that store are great about helping me with my bike, for free as much as possible. Todd's going to show me how to build a wheel next week. And Todd called me when Jim took the lock off the green bike!