Mr Dibbs Fixes Bikes

32

He had asked Mister Dibbs to take a thousand pictures of him on the bicycle, or stood next to it, or the bicycle by itself, leaning against the wall and privet hedge in front of the old man's house. Frederick worried that the stiff twigs on the privet might scratch the paintwork that Mister Dibbs had painstakingly restored, but they didn't, and the old man didn't seem too bothered. Still, Frederick pulled the bicycle away from the twigs as soon as the pictures were all taken on his mobile phone.

Frederick wanted to ride the bicycle, right now, but he couldn't. Even though Mum hadn't said so, he knew very well that she would want him to wear a helmet. Right now, she wasn't in the mood, but if he took advantage of that, he would suffer for it later. He didn't want to get the bicycle, only for Mum to ban him from riding it because he hadn't taken safety precautions. Later, when her mood got better, she would appreciate him thinking like this. Right now, there wasn't much she could show any care for.

Mister Dibbs showed him where to find the spare key for the 'Big shed'. The 'cubby hole' little more than a missing brick in the foundations of the larger shed, where the key sat, untouched by the elements, yet still feeling dirty as he took the key out and then returned it. He didn't need the key right at this moment, because Mister Dibbs still stood with him. But, once Mum had got him a helmet, he would be taking the bicycle out all the time. His bicycle.

The last time he had had a bicycle of his own, it had brought frequent attention from the police and he expected the same would happen up here, but he didn't care. He had a bicycle and his days feeling stuck within these few streets were soon going to recede into the distance. By the end of the week, he would have explored everywhere.

"Thy can put the machine there. There's spare locks in the drawer and tarps over yon other side." The old man flicked a finger toward a set of drawers on the side wall. "There's not been any break-ins afore, but best to prepare for the worst, eh?"

Frederick couldn't reply. All he could do was to look at the rows upon rows of bicycles, set upon stands, keeping tires from the concrete floor. He counted near two dozen of various sizes and makes, but couldn't recognise any of them. In fact, he doubted the shed housed any bicycle built after turn of the century. All of them looked so clean and almost like new.

"Did you fix all of these, Mister Dibbs?" He leaned his bicycle in the spot the old man had told him he could. "Are there any really rare ones? Like, what's that one I saw in a book? Penny Farming."

"Farthing. Nay. Nowt so old." The old man wiped his nose, tucking the handkerchief away. "These here are no earlier than the year I were born. A record, like. Of my life. Right there's a Drake Rocket. My first bicycle."

"The actual one?" Frederick stood a good three feet away from it, knowing full well how clumsy he could be. "It looks brand new."

"Aye, my father would not countenance treating things bad. Got the bite of his belt more often than I can remember for breaking summat or other." The old man moved a little further along, pointing to another bicycle. "And that there is a Drake Tourer. A racing bicycle. A fella won the Tour de France on one of those. And that one was the first bicycle Mister Timson had me a'fixing. I bought it from the owner with my first wage packet. No-one understood why."

Frederick could. It was an achievement to remember. He had never had anything like that in his life to mark down as an achievement, but he was still young. The nearest thing he could think of were the two frames he had made for Mister Dibbs' precious objects. He felt a little proud of himself for those, but he had nothing that could compare to Mister Dibbs' bicycles. They really were things to feel pride in.

"They're probably worth a lot, aren't they?" He saw Mister Dibbs glance at his watch for what seemed like the hundredth time. "Anyway, I'd better get back in to my house. Mum'll need a drink and something to eat. She never gets anything herself when she's in her moods."