A couple of weeks ago Charles asked me if it would alright if he got a mountain bike. Apparently when I taught him cycle, a few weeks before, the talk was all of road bikes. How unfashionable they appear now! On the very day Charles asked my permission to follow the fashion, I was offered a beat up mountain bike, which I gave to Charlies and threw in a bicycle repair lesson too. On arriving my wife gave Charles an old tooth brush and he set to work, gleefully, wiping and polishing. We had WD40 fun! The Engineer Who Cannot Be Named came over. The bike became as good as new, sort of. We were not boys in the garage, we were men. After a while though the WD40 seemed to be getting to us, so we retreated from the garage. Still overcome by fumes, Charles ended up leaving the renovated machine to ride gone another day. Back in the garage the leaky plastic petrol can sat politely on the shelf, in a darker corner, right above where our heads were or the Engineer’s cigarette.
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