The most exciting day in the history of days.
It is the day new bikes come to live with Shark, Tiger and Squirrel.
This
defining red-letter day is all due to the purposeful determination of our
Travelling Aunty, calling in on us, en route to her funeral visit.
Travelling
Aunty claims she has had it up-to-here with birthdays and Christmases.
And now she expects nothing but trauma thanks to the inexplicable state
that is
teenage. With what can you possibly equip a teenage niece? Then divide it by three?
I
sympathise. Travelling Aunty is a Quaker School Boarding Girl, so her
horizons have been limited. And even if she knew about eye-liner (she
doesn't), there are only so many shades of black you can get. So, unusually, I agree immediately. Bikes are indeed a very practical choice
for birthdays and Christmases 2013 to 2018. I wish I had thought of it myself.
Thus today
finds us standing in the bike shop for three hours while everyone
discusses gears, the colour pink, what is the point of a cross-bar, and
who pulled off the sparkly tassels from Squirrel's bike in 2004? Because she has it writ in her little book as
Score To Be Settled On Your Wedding Day.
Me, I have never bought the gritlets a new bike in my life. So far I have wheeled in 12 non-functioning bikes gathered betwixt the dump and freecycle. I like to think it has become a fond family ceremony, staring in forlorn misery at the broken heaps of old pedals, disconnected chains, bent frames and non-working brakes to discover the reason why humanity junks their old bikes.
Well, not these. These bikes will be loved, fondled, and adored. Or until that point when they are forgotten about, abandoned to the elements, hurled to the ground in a temper tantrum and called
That old thing? Put it on Freecycle. I'm buying a motorbike.
