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Joan and David At 5:55 a.m. I slipped inside for a quick shower before our hosts arose. They didn't lock their door since their cottage was back from the main town and the town didn't have a high crime rate. However, I noticed they locked the garage where their assortment of bicycles were kept. Their neighbour Charlie, whose property we camped on, since it was more level than Joan and David's, left for work on his motorbike at seven thirty. He quietly pushed his motorbike to the end of the driveway before starting it so he wouldn't disturb us. There were five connected cottages. Joan and David had bought two side by side so they would have extra room. The neighbour closest to them was an eighty-six year old woman who couldn't walk around much. Joan went over each morning to make sure she was okay. Eileen, from Ireland, lived next to the elderly woman. Eileen lent Sharon a pictorial book of Ireland. "The most beautiful place on earth," she said in her Irish accent. "I'm not biased of course," she added. The book showed rural Ireland at its best. Charlie's cottage was at the opposite end from Joan and David. Somehow, the way the land was divided, Charlie's garden ran in a strip alongside Joan and David's land instead of in front of his own cottage. David left for work at 8:45 and Joan left at 9:00. "Stay another day if you like," Joan said as she left out the door. Joan worked for a social agency that helped elderly shut-ins. My pedal continued to click with every revolution and it was driving Sharon crazy. I dismantled the pedal and regreased both cones and bearings. I reassembled it and took it for a test spin. It still clicked. On my return trip past Eilene's cottage she invited me in to look at the remodeling she had done to her cottage. I couldn't get over how low the door heights were. I had to duck to enter the house. The ceiling was a mere six inches above my head. The door frames and ceiling got even lower as we ascended to the second floor. Eileen had gone to Ireland the week before and she had come back with a quid. She gave me the bill with instructions to have a Guinness for her. I decided to put on a pedal David had offered me the night before. They had numerous pedals since they had converted all their bikes to newer style pedals. It worked like a charm. No more clicking. No one would be able to hear me coming. Leaving our packs at Joan and David's, Sharon and I cycled back into Cambridge. Gaining speed approaching the road hump I jumped my bike into the air and nearly wiped out. I wobbled off the road and onto the gravel. Evel Knievel had nothing to worry about. We returned to Joan and David's in time for a supper of ham, salad and new potatoes. |
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