Tink tink tink tink went the bike.
'Bike?' says I
'Yes?' says the Bike
'What tinks?'
'Dunno' says the Bike
'Is it the BB?'
'No' says the Bike, 'guess again'.
'Not a bloody spoke please!'
'Guess again'
'Chainring bolts? I have my tools' says I.
'Not even close!' says the bike as we pedal onwards, the noise now both perplexing and irritating its owner more and more.
'Oh come on!' says I as the noise gets louder the angrier I get and the harder I pedal.
The bike giggles, nearly throwing me off in the process.
'Stop that!' says I.
'I cant help it' laughs the Bike, 'you're such a bufoon'
Tink tink tink tink...
Muttering darkening oaths in the equally darkening evening sky I stop to put the lights on. I check the Bike over and carry on pedaling.
Tink tink tink tink...
'Agggh!'
<snigger> went the Bike
'Right! Thats it, either you tell me what gives or I'll turn you into a fixie and sell you to some spotty student, no more quality oils for you sonny jim!'
'I am just a bicycle' said the bike 'I am not a sentient being, your anthropomorphizing a collection of nuts and bolts, your idle threats cannot harm me'
Totally stumped for a reply I pedal on...
Tink tink tink tink...
The noise, by now, starts to take on a familiar tone. Tink tink tink. It was coinciding with the left pedal stroke, I coast and the noise stops. I pedal and back comes the inevitable. Tink tink tink...
The Bike is quiet - was that a stifled giggle?
Tink tink tink tink TUNK!
Tunk? I look down, the Bike now vibrating with suppressed mirth, almost sending me into the curb in the process.
And I see it... Despite the gathering gloom, there it is in all of its nylon and cotton glory.
A shoelace. A shoelace bouncing off the new bottle cage every left pedal action...
The Bike explodes in paroxysms of laughter, casting its rider into a nearby hedge.
A bloody shoelace
'Speaking as an engineer' says the Bike
'You git!' Says I brushing bits of Cambridgeshire out of my hair. 'I'll have you for that!'
'No you wont' Says the bike. 'Not if you want to get home in one piece'
'Ah, yes' I say, extracting myself from the hedge cursing all things two wheeled
'ok, shall we be off?'
'Sure, to the Pub then?' says the bike, looking forward to chatting to some of the other bikes there.
'Yeah, why not'
So, as rider and bicycle set off once more, we see the fading red dot of the rear lamp as dusk turns to night, the crows roosting in the far trees framed by a now deep late September dusk...
Tink tink tink tink
'Bastard' says I
<snigger> says the Bike.
