On Our Bikes

We only had two bikes between the five of us.

Mine was a very grand drop handle barred affair

given by our next door neighbours’ daughter

when she finally left home.

Roger’s was an old ‘sit up and beg’ with a bit of rust

and brakes that (unknown to his mother) did not work.

Our parents supported us on our faltering two wheels,

first in our back yards, then in the street,

where we taught the rest.

Then we were off! 

On the road!

Brakes or no brakes,

it wasn’t a problem!

Just made the hills

more or less exciting

and there was little traffic.

All the roads on our estate were allowed,

only the bottom road,

the main road bordering the countryside, 

was forbidden and we obeyed.

We didn’t ride there.

Then a catastrophe struck.

It was a perfect storm.

The combination of the steep hill, 

the junction with the bottom road,

the bike with no brakes, 

traveling unavoidably, at full speed, 

and a car passing along the bottom road

at that precise moment,

all came together.

It was a catastrophe that took Roger straight 

into the side of the car and over the top.

The bike was almost undamaged,

but Roger was tearful.

He wasn’t hurt,

just fearful 

of his mother,

as the driver insisted on 

taking him home and would 

listen to no argument against this.

After shouting a lot,

his mother took an axe

and chopped up the bike

until bent and broken enough

to satisfy her, then

she put the pieces 

into the big dustbin.

She saw us watching.

“Don’t you amalgamate round here”, 

she shouted, shooing with her arms.

It was her favourite expression 

and usually made us laugh, 

behind her back, 

but not now,

with this tragedy.

We had only one bike

between the five of us.

https://stortellerpoetryreview.blogspot.com/2025/11/super-sized-series_02134395086.html