|Before. Very rusty old bike.|
|After. Very oily rusty old bike.|
Yes that's right. You have noticed, and I agree, it is still a rusty old bike. But I have oiled the rust!
Look at how it shines now. I did it with a bowl of oil and a two inch paint brush. Oiling things in this way is very quick. It can also be very messy. It was very messy! In fact it took more time to clean up the spilled oil, than it did to oil the bike. Nevertheless, I still think the rust on the wheels looks nicer now that it is shiny.
I also pumped the tyres up. Surprisingly they stayed up too. It was at this stage of proceedings that I decided to take her for a spin.
Did you notice that I called it her? You might wonder why that is? I have no idea. Sorry.
She went like a dream. Effortlessly. The big wheels give her a tremendous turn of speed. I was soon almost flying down the road. As I went, I sang gaily. In the old sense of the word gay that is. "Raindrops keep falling on my head, and, just like the guy who boots are too big for his bed. Nothin' seems to fit, Oh, I'm not complainin', because I'm free nothin's bothering me... Tra la la."
I never sang the 'tra la la' bit. Now, that would have sounded gay. Not that I have any problems with people being gay. Thought it best to mention that.
She was fairly hurtling along, the old bike. People were watching me as I whizzed past. It may have been the bike they were looking at. But truthfully, and without, I hope, sounding too immodest, I think it was my singing that attracted them. I do have beautifully modulated tones.
Anyway, things were going well. What a lovely, delightfully smooth old thing. But enough about me. The bike was quite nice too.
Then I saw the tractor emerging slowly from a field. No problem. No room to go around him in this narrow lane. I shall stop and let the tractor complete it's manoovre manuover maneuvre maanuver. Let the tractor complete it's turn.
Oh no! She won't stop. The brakes won't grip. What an idiot! I've only gone and oiled the brake pads! I'm going too fast. What to do? Jump off. That's it. It's easy. All you do is, you throw your right leg back and over the saddle, and, dragging your foot along the ground as a brake, come to a graceful halt.
This method always worked when I was younger. But this time it didn't. This time, as my leg came over the saddle, the crotch of my trousers got caught on the saddle. As I tried to disentangle myself, the handlebars took a sudden twist to the left, and I fell, or rather crashed, into the roadside ditch, with the bike on top off me.
Not to worry though. I'm told that if I keep the frozen peas in place, the bruising will soon go down, and things will, in a few days, return to their normal size. Which in a funny way, is a shame really, because it's nice having them a bit bigger than normal.
It's going to be a while before I can get back on the saddle again. Such a pity, because I was hoping to get my leg over quite a lot this summer.