The Accidental Cyclist by Dennis Rink

particularly
stubborn set of pedals from one machine, struck the spanner in
fury, only to discover that the left-hand pedal had a reverse
thread.
    Icarus laughed at him. The
Leader grew annoyed, and said that if that was his attitude to
help, then he was leaving.
    Icarus stopped him. “I’m sorry,”
he said, “it’s just that I realised that I should have known that.
I remember reading somewhere that pedals always thread in a forward
direction, so that they remain tight. That means a left-side pedal
has to be taken off counter-clockwise. It’s something that the
Wright brothers invented – they noticed that if the left pedal had
a normal thread, it would fall off after a while.”
    “Who the hell were the Wright
brothers? You don’t mean the guys who invented flying?”
    “Yes, them, except they didn’t
invent flying – the simply built the first flying machine. They
started out running a bicycle shop.”
    “Oh,” said The Leader, lapsing
into silence. After a while he said: “So then, how do you know the
old guy?”
    “We met in jail,” Icarus said
without even thinking. It struck him that perhaps he need not
explain to The Leader that his time in jail was no more that a few
hours in a police cell.
    “What was he in for?”
    “You know, I never even asked. I
have absolutely no idea.”
    After a while longer The Leader
said: “I tried to steal his bike this morning. I don’t know why I
did it, because he was right there all the time. But he caught me,
first time that I’ve ever been caught. Then he said he was going to
teach me a lesson.”
    “So, how did he teach you a
lesson?”
    “He didn’t. Said he would do it
later. I’m still waiting. When do you think he might do it?”
    Icarus pondered for a while,
before saying: “I don’t know. Maybe this is your lesson.”

10. A SPOKE IN THE WHEEL
     
    The Grey Man returned several
hours later to find several piles of dusty, rusty metal that looked
as if they were ready for the scrapheap. In the time that Icarus
and The Leader had spent deconstructing the bicycles they had
formed a strange alliance. It was a bond formed of mutual respect,
coloured by an element of mistrust and misunderstanding. Icarus
proved incapable of wielding a spanner, screwdriver or tyre lever,
but appeared to be a compendium of technical knowledge of the
science of cycling. The Leader, on the other hand, showed a
pragmatism and practicality that enabled the pair to get things
done.
    The Grey Man was obviously
impressed. He emptied his satchel onto the floor – a selection of
specialist cycle tools – and said: “Let’s make ourselves a
bicycle.”
    The Leader snorted loudly and
said: “Out of this lot – you’ve got to be joking. There’s not one
wheel there that’s not buckled. You’ll maybe get a one-wheeler if
you’re lucky.”
    “You mean a unicycle,” said
Icarus.
    “Don’t go all hoity-toity,” said
The Leader. “I know what I mean.”
    The Grey Man walked across to
basement to the pile of rusting frames, and regarded them
carefully. Finally he selected one and held it up against Icarus’s
leg. “This will do nicely,” he said.
    He gave the frame to Icarus,
along with a sheet of water paper, and showed him how to clean up
the spots of rust. He then turned to The Leader and pointed at the
metallic spider’s web of wheels. “Now you,” he told The Leader,
“find me the best front wheel.”
    The Leader replied with his
dirtiest dirty look, but did the older man’s bidding. Slowly he
disentangled the pile of wheels, which clung to one another,
reluctant to let go. Finally he extracted one from the tangled mass
and said: “There,” handing the least buckled wheel to the Grey Man,
“this is the best, but it’s all a load of crap.”
    The Grey Man ignored the comment
and took the wheel from him, holding it by the axle and spinning
it. “Not bad,” he said, “at least no spokes are broken.”
    He placed the wheel on an
upturned frame and spun it a