Wheeler Dealer 2!

The bicycles were for hire at 200dhms per day. And we were here for 90 days. At the current exchange rate, we were looking at £1,500. And that was each! But without wheels, in the short window I am able to be up and dancing each day, I could cover little more than 100metres or so - albeit a pretty awesome 100 metres! - and I was longing to spread my wings...

I love cycling. Not the lycra-clad sort, but the kind that makes you feel free-as-a-bird. Where the wind whips through your hair and a sudden rain-shower makes you wetter than it should be possible to be! Where the steep-hill climb is rewarded with an exhilarating rush of speed - and adrenalin - down the other side, but you are never too hurried to wave at your friends beyond their garden gate, or deliver a smile to the

postman as you pass him by.

Each morning, for four years now, my bicycle has waited patiently for me to ring its cheerful bell and set off down the lane. For four years, it, and I, have waited for my Bambi legs to be strong again, to race the jubilant wind along the twisty-twiney track to the village on the hill. 

And though the dust gathered on its saddle and, as the radiation damage to my brain progressed, my legs forgot the way to run and then to walk, we never gave up hope, my bicycle and I.

While we waited, my imagination gave me back my wings. And I took to the sky and the whole world opened up before me! I soared over hills and dales, navigated vast oceans and drank from new-born springs. I felt the sun on my skin and the wind in my hair and, if I stretched out my hand, I could almost touch the heavens... But I still missed my bicycle.

And then one day last winter I flew too close to the sun. My bicycle and I, it seemed, had come to the end of the road. While we still had so many places to see and smiles to deliver, there was no-where on earth to go...

Well, I wasn’t altogether sure that God would have me in heaven, let alone let me bring my bike, so I asked Him one more time if I could stay behind.

And He must have heard because little by little I am growing stronger. My legs are able to walk again and they are even learning how to skip and dance once more. So you see, all I need now are my wheels!

But wheels, it seemed, in this neck-of-the-woods, did not come cheap. Our coffers were low and prospects did not look good. So I kept on dancing and though I didn’t have wheels I still had wings and Lorenzo’s tales to carry me beyond my pocket-sized realm...

And then, all-of-a-sudden, I also had hope!

It was Father Christmas who made the magic! Though it was Jesus’s birthday he brought something special for me! The voucher read;

“This is your ticket to see the world!”;

which, after all, is something he knows lots about. It was worth up to £200 towards our wheels! Plus, we trusted, a good deal of luck.

With hope in our hearts and the magic ticket in our heads we set off to negotiate with the charming but indomitable French madame who holds the golden key to Sidi Kaouki’s bike sheds.

Three minutes later we were bedazzled by the madame’s disarming smile. She had, she said winningly, had chance to consider a long-term deal. Her best price was £700. Each! We glanced at each other, in the hope that we might have mis-translated. Nope.

We had nothing to lose.

“How about £150”, Lorenzo tried gamely. “For both”.

“£200”, she replied.

“Done!” said Father Christmas and I could have sworn I saw a twinkle in

the sky.

Hey God! We've got wings!