* * *
Back at school things carried on as usual. That was until one Tuesday. Cycling home, overexcited now the days were getting longer we were open to any opportunity for a new way to spend our time.
“Keep up Lu!” Al shouted out to me. We’d taken to racing our BMXs to and from school which at least made the journey more bearable, and gave us something to look forward to on our way home.
“Wait up Al!” I shouted back. “Take a look at this bad boy!” I’d found a piece of treasure laying beside the path.
In the unkempt front garden of a run-down bungalow, sat a faded yellow canoe, trying to conceal itself within the sun drenched grass. What made it stand out however was the hand written sign ‘FOR SALE £20’. Al groaned and turned back, but when I pointed it out to him his face lit up as if he’d just scratched off the silver coating of a winning scratch card. “Wicked! You know we’ve gotta get this!”
We approached the front door having discussed our funds, we had fifteen quid on us, and could make up the difference from the change jar at the back of my dad’s wardrobe.
A knock on the door summoned a skinny old man, bare chested and in a ripped pair of stone wash jeans. Faded tattoos on both arms and long straggly grey hair he looked like the lead singer from some long forgotten rock band. His face bore a frown but his eyes twinkled, I think he appreciated the company. “Alright lads, how can I help you? I don’t need my grass cutting if it’s money you’re after.”
“The canoe-” I started, then Al helped me out. “Hi there, we’re interested in purchasing your boat.”
The old man smiled, then quickly straightened his face, I doubt he thought anyone was going to want it, let alone that he’d find a buyer on the first day. “You want my canoe do you? Have you had a good look? It’s not pretty but there’s no holes in it so I can’t see any reason why it won’t float. Twenty quid cash and it’s yours.”
“We’ll have it for definite, Lu’s just gonna pop home and get another fiver,” Al replied.
The old man slowly looked us up and down then smiled, “I know your faces, I’ve seen you before. Give me fifteen now and drop the rest through the letter box next time you come past. You look like good lads.”
Money was exchanged and we loaded our new toy onto the bikes, storing the paddle inside it for ease. Al rode with the front end on his handlebars, one hand holding it in place. Behind him I did the same, the pair of us making a kind of unique four wheeled canoe, one for land use only. I doubt we would have floated. Not far into our journey I realised we’d cocked up. In taking it straight home with us we thought we’d made things easier, but there’s a reason you don’t normally see people using BMXs to transport a canoe. We reached my house nowhere near soon enough and I left Al optimistically rummaging through the garage looking for canoe paint, while I cycled off back up the road to settle the debt. I knew if we put it off we’d have never bothered, and that was only going to bite us in the arse at some point if we bumped into the bloke again.
It wouldn’t be worth trying the canoe out until the weekend when we could have a proper go. I knew the next few days would drag even more than usual, but then Saturday would be here and we could get out on the water. I was going to go to Haywich and I was finally going to see what Kirk-Leigh looked like from the other side. I went to bed that night knackered but happy. The canoe slept out in the garage among the spiders and old off-cuts of wood that dad’s accumulate, it didn’t complain.
Church Group Page 5
