Author Topic: Memory Ride  (Read 1548 times)

Offline mickward

  • Jr. Member
  • **
  • Posts: 98
Memory Ride
« on: April 19, 2006, 04:08:07 AM »
                                   Memory Ride

   As she sat astride her cycle, Emily looked down the hill in front of her. Long Lane was the steepest, straightest and as the name suggested, longest road in the county. For just over a mile the lane plummeted down from Curtis Wood to Willow Brook at an impossible gradient and without any bends or dips until the road flattened out at the bridge that crossed the brook and then rose gradually again up the other side of the valley. Emily had sped down Long Lane on her cycle many times, despite being warned not to many times by her mother.
   As she sat and followed the road with her eyes, A young boy of around ten years came up alongside her on a small red cycle and without a glance at her or the road ahead, sped off with a shrill, "Yahoo" down the hill. Emily watched him as he flew, legs stuck out sideways, down the first few yards of Long Lane. Briefly Emily remembered the overheard conversation of two boys in the bus-shelter last week. One boy had claimed to have reached a hundred miles an hour down the hill and while doubting this claim Emily had bought herself a speedometer to fit to her rusty bicycle. The man in the shop had fitted it and shown her how to use it and after a few experiments she was now proficient in its technology.
   With a sigh Emily decided that it was now or never. She pushed a button on the electronic speedometer, tightened the chinstrap on her cycle helmet and gripping the handlebars tightly gave a determined hefty push with her feet on the tarmac, launching herself down the steep incline. 
At first the cycle moved slowly and Emily wobbled slightly as she tried to keep the rusty machine upright. But then, as the bicycle gained momentum Emily relaxed and positioned herself into a more comfortable position, her upper body sat bolt upright and her arms outstretched wide as she gripped the rubber coated handlebars. Gradually the cycle gained speed and Emily began to feel the familiar thrill that this journey had always given her.
She looked down at the speedometer and saw that the digits were reading five miles per hour, then six miles per hour, then seven, eight, and then nine. At ten miles per hour Emily looked to her left and saw briefly the farmyard gate that led to Hilltop Farm and where she once had a job picking Strawberries. For an instant she would swear later that she could smell the sweet fruit once again in her nostrils.
The speedometer clicked steadily upwards until at last it reached thirty miles an hour. Pulling her gaze and concentration from the road Emily saw a huge oak tree come into sight, get larger, larger still and then zip past her. Emily remembered fondly her first kiss beneath that tree and fancied that she could still taste the bubble-gum lips of little Tommy Spencer upon hers.
Down the hill she sped ever faster, the bicycle rattling easily over minor bumps and holes in the road and shaking the bones of it's rider cruelly. Trees and hedgerows became a blur to Emily. As the speedometer reached fifty miles an hour Emily saw a stone horse trough come and go to her right. She remembered briefly the time when she had playfully pushed the aforementioned Tommy Spencer into the cold, stagnant, trough water one balmy summer. Emily smiled to herself at the memory of the spluttering and laughing Tommy.
The speedometer clicked ever higher and was a fraction over sixty miles an hour when the road began to even out and the bicycle slow down. The cycle dropped into a dip and began to climb the opposite hill of the valley, slowing gradually from fifty, to thirty, to fifteen, to five and finally to a halt. Emily came to rest against a low stone wall outside the pub known ironically as "The Travellers Rest". As the pale, dishevelled and slightly shaky Emily dismounted, she caught sight of the small boy on the red bicycle that she had seen at the top of the hill.
"Wow, you must have reached fifty miles an hour" the young boy said to her, "have you raced down Long Lane before?"
Emily grinned and took off her helmet before replying, "many times sonny, but not for sixty years until today", then went on, "It was sixty two miles an hour actually".


  • Guest
Re: Memory Ride
« Reply #1 on: April 19, 2006, 09:16:12 AM »
Hi Mickward,

Brilliant, loved this! I'm working at the moment, but I'll have a look through it later and do some 'nit-picking' if you like. Not a lot of problems struck me on this first read though..


Offline Angeleyes

  • Hero Member
  • *****
  • Posts: 1382
Re: Memory Ride
« Reply #2 on: April 19, 2006, 10:29:22 AM »
Fantastic. I wasn't expecting that at the end!! ;D  This is just the sort of thing I love to read. Keep 'em coming. :D ;D
May all your dreams come true.

Whether you think you can, or think you can''re right!
-Henry Ford.