It was the money Delores Smythe had given him. The formerly crisp twenties had survived a trip through the washing machine. He carefully folded the bills, planning to show them to Grandpa.
Reaching the corner of Ridgeview Drive, he came to a house with a line of cars and pickups parked along the curb. A large, handmade sign on a piece of brown cardboard announced “Three-Family Yard Sale.” People in coats and sweaters were looking at the items for sale.
“Stay close,” Jimmy said to Buster.
They walked up the driveway, passing by a CB radio with antenna, a table with four rickety chairs, a wooden gun rack with deer antlers glued to the top, and four large boxes of children’s clothes. Small pieces of brown cardboard set the price for each item or group.
Jimmy stopped at the one-dollar table, amazed at what a dollar could buy. There was a slightly rusty toaster, a hammer, an alarm clock, a green telephone, and other household goods. Near the garage were lawn and garden items. There was a wheelbarrow for five dollars and a lawn mower for ten dollars. Leaning up against the lawn mower was a candy-apple red bicycle.
Jimmy caught his breath. Looking around, he slowly stepped closer. It was a mountain bike with knobby tires. On the handle bars he saw the gear mechanism. Max had explained how the gears worked. Jimmy had listened carefully and nodded whenever Max asked a question, but he still couldn’t see how moving a tiny lever a fraction of an inch could make a difference in how easy or hard it was to push the pedals. He leaned over and touched the front tire. It didn’t look worn at all. He eyed the frame. There was only one bad scratch across the top connecting bar. He pushed down on the seat. It was firm but broad. He squeezed one of the brakes and watched the calipers close snuggly on the front rim.
“Go, dawgs,” a male voice said.
Jimmy looked up into the face of a young man who was wearing a University of Georgia cap exactly like Jimmy’s. He had dark hair and a neatly trimmed goatee.
“Go, dawgs,” Jimmy answered.
“How do you like the bike?” the man asked, squatting down beside Jimmy.
“It’s a very nice bike.”
Buster sniffed the back tires. Jimmy reached out and pulled the dog closer to him.
“Is that your dog?”
“Yes, sir.”
The man laughed. “Do I look old enough to be called sir ?”
“Yes, sir.”
The man stared at Jimmy’s face for a few seconds. “What’s your name?”
“Jimmy Mitchell.”
“And your dog?”
“That’s Buster.”
The man motioned toward the bike. “Are you shopping or just looking around?”
“I’m looking at this bike. Is it yours?”
“Yes, sir.”
Jimmy stood up. The young man seemed nice.
“Thanks for letting me look at it.”
“Would you like to ride it?”
Jimmy’s jaw dropped open. “Uh, I can’t ride a bike.”
“How old are you?” the young man asked in surprise.
“Thirteen years old.”
“And you can’t ride a bike?”
“No, sir.”
“Have you ever tried?”
“No, sir. I don’t have a bike.”
“Would you like one?”
“Yes, sir.”
“What kind?”
Jimmy looked at the red bike. It was an easy question.
“Just like yours,” he said.
“Well, anyone who has a UGA cap and a dog like Buster should have a bike.” The young man looked around. “Where are your parents?”
“My mama went to the grocery store, and my daddy is playing golf.”
“You came to the yard sale alone?”
“Yes, sir. I’m going to see my Grandpa. He lives on this street.”
“And you stopped to browse along the way.” The young man put his hand on the bike.
Jimmy started to move away.
“Wait a minute,” the young man said. “I bought a new mountain bike and want to sell my old one to someone who will take good care of it. Do you see anyone who might be the right person to buy this bike?”
It was Jimmy’s turn to look around at the crowd of people. None of the people in sight seemed to be the mountain-bike type.
“No, sir.”
“Then, maybe you’re the one to buy it,” the young man announced.
Jimmy stepped back. “I don’t know about that.”
He put his hands in his pockets, felt the two twenties, and took out the money.
“How much do you have there?” the young man asked.
Jimmy held up the two bills.
“Is that your money?”
“Yes, sir. I earned it taking care of Mrs. Smythe’s cats—Otto, Maureen, and Celine. She was out of town for the Christmas holidays.”
“Anyone who can take care of cats while the owner is out of town must be a very responsible individual.”
“Yes, sir. I’m responsible for Buster too.”
The young man picked up the bike with one hand. “Do you see how light it is?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Pick it up.”
Jimmy used two hands to hoist the bike. It was light.
“It’s a mountain bike, but weight is still important. Every ounce counts.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Would you like to buy this bike for forty dollars? It cost about four hundred and fifty dollars when it was new.”
Jimmy looked down at the money in his hand. The thought that two pieces of wrinkled green paper with a man’s picture on them could buy a beautiful red mountain bike was hard to imagine.
“Yes, sir,” Jimmy managed.
“I think you’re the perfect new owner for this bike, but to make sure it’s okay with your parents, I’m going to give you a money-back guarantee. Do you know what that means?”
“No, sir.”
“If your parents tell you that you can’t keep the bike, you can bring it back here, and I’ll give you back your forty dollars. I’m visiting friends who live in this house and will be here for a few more days.”
The young man held out his hand, and Jimmy shook it.
“We have a deal,” the man said. “Now, give me the money.”
Jimmy handed him the two bills.
“Enjoy the bike,” the young man said. “You should be proud of yourself for earning the money to buy it. Don’t forget to buy a helmet before riding it.”
“Yes, sir.”
In a daze, Jimmy rolled the bike down the driveway to the street. The other people at the yard sale seemed unaware of the importance of the event. Buster wasn’t sure where to walk and so ran around Jimmy and the bike in a tight circle. They reached the sidewalk and continued toward Grandpa’s house. Jimmy had trouble keeping his eyes off the spinning wheels of the bike and almost ran into a tree before swerving at the last second. He reached Grandpa’s house and leaned the bike against a tree while he rang the doorbell. When Grandpa opened the door, Jimmy gave him a hug and listened to his heart. Grandpa was wearing a scratchy gray sweater.
“Did you see the boy who left the bike?” Grandpa asked, looking over Jimmy’s head. “The neighborhood kids should be more responsible with their property.”
Jimmy released the old man and turned toward the bicycle. “That’s my bike. I’m responsible for it,” he replied. “I bought it from a man wearing a University of Georgia cap.”
“Where was this man?” Grandpa asked in surprise.
“At the yard sale.”
“What yard sale?”
“I’ll show you.”
Jimmy took Grandpa by the hand and led him out to the sidewalk.
“There,” he said, pointing toward the vehicles. “Buster and I stopped to look at all the stuff for sale and found this bike.”
“What did you pay for it?”
“I gave the man the forty dollars I earned taking care of Mrs. Smythe’s cats. He’d bought a new bike an
d didn’t want this one anymore. It has a scratch on it, but I think it’s perfect.”
They returned to the tree, and Grandpa gave the bike a closer inspection.
“That’s a nice bike for forty dollars,” he agreed. “Does your mama know about it?”
“No, sir. The man gave me a money-backwards thing in case Mama and Daddy won’t let me keep it.”
“A money-back guarantee?”
“Yes, sir.” Jimmy’s voice grew more anxious. “But I thought you could talk them into letting me keep it. You got Mama to let me take pole-climbing lessons, and you could explain why I need a bike.”
“You don’t know your mama,” Grandpa said. Then he paused. “Or maybe you do. Have you tried to ride it?”
“No, sir. I don’t have a helmet.”
“I never wore a helmet when I was a kid.”
“The man who sold me the bike said I needed a helmet, and all the bike riders on TV wear helmets. They come in all sorts of colors, but I want a red one, just like the bike.”
“Do you have any money left?”
“No, sir.”
Grandpa rolled the bicycle across the grass. “It has a nice motion. The wheels don’t wobble and the frame seems straight.”
“Yes, sir,” Jimmy said hopefully.
Grandpa handed the bike to Jimmy. “Put Buster and the bike in the backyard while I get the keys to my truck. We’ll go to the store and look for a red helmet. Before trying to convince your parents to let you keep the bike, it would be good to show them that you can safely ride it.”
— Sixteen —
Jimmy and Grandpa returned from the store with more than a red helmet. Also included in the bag of bicycle accessories were a new plastic water bottle and a large horn with a bright red bulb. When he saw the horn and squeezed the bulb, Jimmy burst out laughing so hard that it made Grandpa chuckle too. He put the horn in the shopping cart without being asked.
Grandpa installed the horn and a bracket for the water bottle. He then washed the water bottle, put in a couple of ice cubes, and filled it with water.
“Take a drink,” he said, handing the bottle to Jimmy. “And tell me how the water tastes.”
Jimmy tilted up the bottle, swallowed, and made a face.
“Like soap.”
“I’ll rinse it out more.”
Grandpa repeated the process, and Jimmy took another drink.
“That’s good,” he said.
Grandpa snapped the water bottle in place. He checked the brakes and made sure the seat was secure.
“Do you mind if I ride it first?” Grandpa asked.
“You can ride a bike?” Jimmy asked, his eyes big.
“It’s one of those things you never forget.”
“What about a helmet?”
“Your red helmet won’t fit me, but if all modern-day bike riders wear helmets, I can fit right in.”
Grandpa went to the shed and returned with a scuffed yellow Georgia Power Company helmet on his head.
“This helmet has saved my life a couple of times. It should be able to handle a ride around the yard on a bicycle.”
Grandpa threw his leg over the bike and after a wobbly start leveled out and rode to the rear of the lot. He turned and made a tight circle around the power pole. Buster kept pace, barking in excitement. Jimmy watched in amazement.
“It’s very smooth!” Grandpa called out. “You won’t have to use all these gears just to ride around town.”
Grandpa slowed to a stop in front of Jimmy.
“That’s the limit of my bike riding for the year,” the old man said. “I’m not sure if my cardiologist would approve, but I’m not going to ask him. This is a very nice bike for you. Learning how to ride it should be easy.”
Grandpa held the bike upright while Jimmy, red helmet in place, perched on the seat like a jockey in the lists and received his final instructions.
“All you do is pedal and go straight. Don’t try to do anything with the gears. Squeeze both brakes at the same time when you want to stop.”
Jimmy turned the pedals once, stopped, and fell on his side. Only the black strap holding his glasses in place kept them from flying through the air.
“You have to keep pedaling,” Grandpa said. “Try it again.”
Jimmy made it a few more feet before jerking the handlebars to one side, causing another minor crash.
“Why did you do that?” Grandpa asked.
“I don’t know.”
Even though it was chilly outside, Grandpa rubbed his forehead with the sleeve of his sweater.
“When I taught your daddy to ride, I ran alongside him and held up the bike. I know my cardiologist doesn’t want me to do that, so you’re going to have to learn with me simply telling you what to do.”
Jimmy found many ways to fall from the bike. He did not complain, however, because he wanted to ride more than anything. His best attempt lasted about fifteen feet before ending all of a sudden when he squeezed the front brake but not the back brake, causing the bike to hop up on its front wheel. He landed close to a prickly holly bush.
“Look out!” Grandpa shouted as he walked briskly toward him. “Are you okay?”
“Yes, sir,” Jimmy replied, getting to his feet and holding the bike upright. “Can we wash the bike after we finish the lesson? It’s getting dirty.”
“Yes, and I want to show you pictures of Orville and Wilbur Wright, the first people to fly an airplane. You’re as determined as they were.”
Grandma’s voice from the back step interrupted them.
“Jim! What are you doing with that boy?”
“What does it look like?” Grandpa replied. “Teaching him to ride a bike!”
“You know what I mean!”
Jimmy turned to Grandpa. “She’s going to call Mama.”
“Leave that up to me.” Grandpa said in a low voice. “I hear you!” he said to Grandma. “We’re done for now.”
They reached the house. Grandpa told Grandma the whole story of the bicycle.
“And I’m going to call Ellen and let her know what happened so they can make up their minds about it. Jimmy has a money-back guarantee on the bike.”
“From a yard sale?” Grandma asked. “It sounds to me like someone took advantage of him. He’s never had forty dollars in his pocket before.”
“No, it’s a quality bike, but I’ll talk to the seller if it becomes necessary. If there’s a problem, Lee can step in. After all, the boy’s father is a lawyer.”
Jimmy washed the dirt from his hands and face while Grandpa phoned Mama. He wasn’t sure what Grandpa told Mama, but when he came out of the bathroom, Grandpa was nodding and smiling.
“I agree,” he said. “He shouldn’t be riding on the street or unsupervised in the yard. I’ll bring him home in the back of my truck.”
Grandpa hung up the phone and gave Jimmy a thumbs-up.
“You’re not going to have to test your money-back guarantee. I’ve worked everything out with your mama. Come into the kitchen, and we’ll talk about it. Your grandma is fixing hot chocolate, and I know where there are some little marshmallows to put on top.”
FOR THE NEXT MONTH, JIMMY TOOK A BREAK F ROM POLE climbing to learn to ride the bike. Grandpa and Mama let Jimmy ride in grassy areas away from traffic, but he had to walk the bike to and from Grandpa’s house. Grandpa’s backyard was too small for riding, so Grandpa would put the bike in the back of his truck, and they would go to a grassy meadow owned by one of Grandpa’s fishing buddies. The rolling field used to be a cow pasture but had been cow-free for a couple of years. Making it to a large tree in the middle of the field became the goal. Over and over Jimmy would pedal a few feet toward the tree before crashing to the ground.
“It would be a lot easier to learn to ride on a smooth surface, but as much as you fall, it would be tough on your knees and elbows,” Grandpa said. “Anyway, you bought a mountain bike and should learn how to ride it off-road.”
Jimmy didn’t complain. He’d w
anted a bike for so long that any chance to try was a dream fulfilled. Even the January weather didn’t stop him. The sky might be filled with clouds ready to splash the ground with cold drops, but Jimmy asked Mama if he could have a bike-riding lesson. Grandpa didn’t always feel like going outside for an hour on a wintry afternoon. Several times he reminded Jimmy that the Wright brothers didn’t try to fly their plane in the rain.
One Friday in February, Jimmy made it all the way to the tree. The next day, he rode to the tree and returned without losing his balance. Grandpa, wearing his yellow hard hat in case he wanted to take a short ride himself, grabbed the handlebars with one hand and gave Jimmy a big hug with the other arm. Jimmy squeezed the horn several times in celebration.
His cheeks burning from exposure to the wind, Jimmy arrived home and parked the bike at the far end of the front porch. Even though it was Saturday, Daddy had gone to the office for the morning. He drove up as Jimmy sat on the porch steps taking off his slightly muddy shoes before entering the house.
“I did it!” Jimmy proclaimed as Daddy got out of his car. “I rode all the way to the tree and back without falling down!”
Daddy rubbed Jimmy’s head as he climbed the steps.
“That’s good. Come into the house so I can talk to you and Mama.”
Jimmy followed Daddy. Mama was reading in the sunroom. She liked thick books about men and women who fall in love and get married. When Daddy and Jimmy entered the sunroom, she slipped a bookmark into her book and placed it on a glass table beside her chair.
“How are my men doing?” she asked with a smile.
Grinning, Jimmy announced, “I rode the bike all the way to the tree and back!”
“And I picked up the mail from the post office and received the papers from Vera’s lawyer,” Daddy said with a serious look on his face. “She’s filed for visitation and joint custody.”
“Oh, no!” Mama said.
“And followed through on her offer to begin paying child support. Seeing it in print was a slap in the face. To insinuate that we’re not already providing everything Jimmy needs—”
Jimmy Page 17
