My bike story

Some months ago I called in at some of Bordeaux' bike shops to ask about getting my bike serviced. It's never had a good seeing to, though I do clean, oil and adjust it as I can.

One smart place said, "Sixty quid, mate, and there's a five months waiting list. You book your place and we call you when we can do it."

Another place, smaller and less classy, but stuffed with elegant bikes said, "There's not much to do on them. Twenty quid. Drop it in any time. To be honest with you, if you keep it clean it'll be fine. But have you thought of trading it in?"

I hadn't. But now I did.

Well, long story short, as they say, after much reflection, discussion, a little research and not a little thought, I called in.

"The boss is at lunch." I chatted with his apprentice. "If I change my bike it has to be the perfect one. It needs this, this, this and this. Does that bike even exist?" He assured me that it did. The things I wanted were still available and cost less than I thought they would.

The boss returned. We discussed. He examined my bike. He made me an offer I couldn't refuse. (I'd already had an offer of less than half that.) I paid a deposit. My new bike was ordered. Six interminable weeks of waiting for my bike to be made in a factory in England.

"Meanwhile don't damage this one!"

I have ridden so CAREFULLY.

Well the day came. I got the phone call. I took the bags off my bike, gave it a last clean and hurried to the bike shop. The new one is even better than I thought it would be.

"You're a pastor, aren't you?"

I called by a couple of days later with a copy of "La foi a ses raisons" by Guillaume Bignon, a French guy brought up atheist who is now an apologist-philosopher-theologian.