Mr Dibbs Fixes Bikes

14

Frederick felt as though he and the old man had triumphed against a monster. More satisfying than any of the time spent throwing a hook into the water to catch fish that Frederick wasn't even certain were in the canal anyway. He dropped to his knees beside the bike, the bicycle, and had a look at everything while the old man coughed into his ratty handkerchief.

It didn't look too bad. The tires were flat and the wheels rusted, but only a little. Some of the spokes were missing and he felt certain the rim had bent in more than one place on each wheel. The frame looked good. Some of the paintwork had cracks, a couple of places looked as though the paint were peeling, but Frederick could still the deep blue colour, with white flashes along the frame. Not as fresh as when it was first made, a little faded, but not bad at all.

The seat was a write-off, near as Frederick could tell, but maybe the old man could work miracles? Frederick didn't know. He turned to ask Mister Dibbs if the seat could be even fixed, but the old man had already started walking back to where they had left the fishing gear, which meant Frederick had to drag the bike along the towpath by himself.

It was heavier than he thought it would be, even though he knew how heavy it was dragging it out of the water. With the wheels busted as much as they were, and the chain clogged and rusted, Frederick had to carry it, scraping the rear wheel along the towpath, back to the old man and his fishing gear. He didn't look as though he had started fishing again. In fact, he didn't look as though he were doing anything, only sitting there, breathing heavy even though they had finished dragging the bike, the bicycle, out of the water ages ago.

"Do you think we could get the chain moving?" He lifted the back wheel from the ground and tried to rotate the pedals, but they remained stuck. "It's going to be a right aggro getting it back home."

"Aye. I'll ..." The old man coughed, wiping his mouth, looking out to the far side of the canal before standing. He wiped his handkerchief across his forehead, though it wasn't that warm yet. "... I'll have a look. Aye. You hold the back end up."

The old man took ages to kneel beside the bike, then took another age to look at the big front cog. He still didn't do anything as he shifted to look at the cog on the wheel, a single cog without any smaller ones to make the bicycle faster. No gears. Frederick wasn't sure he'd ever seen a bike with no gears before. And still the old man did nothing, sitting back on his heels and messing with that stupid handkerchief again when it was Frederick that had to hold it up.

From his back pocket, the old man pulled out an old penknife. Frederick almost snorted as he saw it. It looked like it only had one blade, and that looked so dull, he doubted it would even scratch someone's skin. Still, it was alright for some. If Frederick ever had a penknife, he'd have been nicked for sure. Old people got away with everything.

"Can you do anything or what?" If the old man didn't do something soon, Frederick would drop the bike where he stood. "It's heavy you know!"

"Aye. I know very well it's heavy." The old man used the penknife to point at the cog and the chain. "But, less'n you want me to damage it all the more, I'd best have a look and see. Aye? Or does thy want me to break it by fooling about?"

The old man still sounded out of breath, but started digging the penknife into the chain and cog. He eased the pedals forward and back, then messed around with the penknife again before messing with the pedals again. Four times he did that and four times the pedals did nothing but wobble a bit. Then, the old man gave a hefty push of the pedals and the wheel moved. Only a bit, and it made an awful sound as it did, but enough.

"Is that it? Is it fixed? Well, not fixed, yeah, but it can move?" He grinned as the old man turned the pedals some more and the wheel turned, wobbling its bent rim. "Not to ride, obvs, but enough to push it?"