Wednesday, 4 April 2012

Resting place

This is my bike that came from the tip about seven years ago, I upgraded it when I bought a fancy newer one from a Vide Grenier a couple of years back. It has no gears and is monstrous heavy—Jane Austin had one just like it—I took it to the bike shop in town to have its pathetic breaks repaired. I know it just sat there for a week, it was exactly in the same place in their workshop when I went back. He charged me five euros for garage space and I took it squeaking and grinching back home, where it sat sadly, propped up against the back of the house—sadder still when I started riding the new one down to get bread.
I steeled myself to take it back to the tip and then thought maybe it could become a post mat feature of the garden. Had to buy a non P.Mat can of spray paint, but it will be only once.
Now it lives on in its new blue incarnation against a quince bush, giving me happy memories of trips to the market, the bread shop and nearly getting squashed under a articulated truck on that awful junction near the fire station.

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