BICYCLES
A Numb3rs challenge story
By BeckyS
June 2005
Charlie swiped the curls from his forehead, pulled his helmet off the handlebars, and slapped it on his head. Without thought, his fingers fastened the buckle while his mind worked out the route.
He'd head down the driveway, left onto the sidewalk, then watch for branches. (He swore they enjoyed yanking him from his bike.) Walk across the intersection, hop back onto the seat after lifting the bike up onto the curb. Zigzag around pedestrians for a block, then slip into the park. Speed along the path, weave through the trees and bushes.
He slung his backpack over his shoulders. The thump of his laptop reminded him that he needed to get moving – Larry would be waiting. He swung a leg over the seat and settled into a rhythm of pedaling. Something about the repetition helped clear his mind, leaving it free to wander from thought to thought. He knew he'd walk into his classroom having unraveled puzzles and problems. What kept him up at night would be solved in daylight.
He laughed to himself. He didn't think his father would understand if he told him he wanted to take up riding his bicycle at night instead of counting sheep – an exercise he'd tried, but never repeated. The animals had haunted him for weeks, organizing themselves into patterns: rhomboids one night, tessellations the next.
His tires churned the dirt into spirals, spinning a cloud that obscured him as he slipped around a curve. The stench and roar of cars and buses disappeared. He was alone. Just him, his bike, and the wind in his face.
He entertained the idea of getting a motorcycle when he got his license back. It wouldn't take him as long to get to school, and he had the money. He didn't pay rent or own a car. He bought groceries when he remembered and clothes when he had to. He had enough money to buy motorcycles, cars or even boats, so that wasn't what stopped him.
No, he thought as he strained up the last hill – it wasn't the money. He burst from the path and entered the campus, exchanging pine for grass and roses. The aroma filled his head. Students cheered from across the quad. He smiled at their enthusiasm for the game they were playing. Not football, but something that involved running and tackling. And tickling. He grinned.
If he'd had a motorcycle, fumes and honking would have accompanied him. The vibration would have numbed his backside; his legs and arms would have stiffened. The bicycle permitted him to enjoy the world. It allowed him to hear people cheering, smell the forests and flowers while strengthening his body. It gave him time to appreciate the beauty.
Charlie kept pedaling, even as he watched the game. Someone scored a touchdown just as he skidded to a halt in front of Larry. His friend didn't raise his voice, even though he'd had to wait. He didn't brush from his pants the dust that the tires had thrown at him. No, he smiled a welcome and helped settle the bike against the rack. Charlie clicked the lock and forgot it in the joy of greeting his friend.
He removed his helmet and scrubbed at his hair. A curl flopped over his eye. He pushed at it. It didn't stay, but he didn't care. He loved his life just the way it was.
THE END
Oh, the challenge? Write a story without using any adjectives or adverbs. Many thanks to my beta on this one – I learned a LOT from you!