The old brown bike stood in the corner, gathering dust. It stood there just like a silent sentinel, steadily reminding Bill of the past. Bill meticulously secured the bicycle lock, the sound of the metal latch echoing his heart. The lock snapped shut, sealing the heavy burden in his heart.
This was more than a bike, it was a bond, a shared memory, a gift from his late father that glued together their shared passion for cycling. But now he was faced with an unfortunate fate. It was either he sold it to meet up with the relentless demands of rent, or he kept it and got evicted. A cruel reminder of the struggles that had consumed his recent weeks.
Bill looked at the bike, he felt like he was betraying his feelings. A mixture of sadness and anger engulfed him. Of course he knew he needed the money, but just the thought of selling his father's poignant gift was almost too much for him to bear. An internal conflict which becomes a deep struggle between him and his emotions. It was like he was giving up on a big part of himself.
The many memories of the Sunday morning bike rides with his dad flooded his mind. The heavy wind in their face and hair. He could almost hear his father's voice, the shared smiles that accompanied their journeys through the city parks, and rolling hills, the freedom they had felt.
Then the memories gave way to a bleak present. There was a "CLOSED" sign at the store at 11:15, well past its advertised opening hours.
He cursed and as he turned to leave, the doors swung open, revealing a friendly face that emerged to greet him. The man's apology for the delayed opening dissolved into a welcoming inquiry: "Can I help you?"
"Yes, I'm here to sell my bike"
"Looks too perfect to be sold," the man said looking from Bill to his bike and from the bike back to bill. "Why do you want to sell it?" He asked.
Bill glanced at his bike for a second before he opened up about the impending sale of his father's cherished possession to pay his rent. In that moment of vulnerability, he talked of the legacy of his father's love for cycling and the shared lessons in bicycle maintenance. The man listened intently, recognizing the profound connection between Bill and his late father. "What's your name again?"
"Bill"
"Bill, you don't want to sell your bike, I can see it. You seriously want to find a way to keep it," he observed.
"Yes" bill nodded
"So why not keep it, obviously you're a very good mechanic."
"Thank you. I learned from my dad. But I have to pay the rent and clear my debts too." Bill explained, his face to the ground.
"Then put it to good, clearly you have the passion and skill." The man paused. There was silence for a few seconds before he continued, "I'll tell you what bill, I just recently acquired this bicycle shop. How about you work for me and I pay you bountifully in return so you can pay your rent and also keep the bike. It clearly holds a lot of memories for you"
Gradually hope blossomed within Bill, the man's offer sparked this flame of joy within him. Working in the small bicycle shop as a bicycle mechanic could be the bridge to realising his dream of honouring his father's memory through cycling. As a symbolic gesture,his first repair would be dedicated to his father. "Are you serious?"
"I am very serious. So what do you say, do you accept my offer" the man replied, extending his hands for a shake.
"Yes. I accept your offer, sir,". Bill's hands reached to meet the man's hand in a firm handshake, sealing their deal.
"Nice. Then come back tomorrow so we can discuss your salary. I was about leaving when I bumped into you"
"Thank you sir "
With a newfound job, Bill rode his bicycle back home, envisioning a future where his passion and his father's legacy converged. His once gloomy day brightened up.
In the weeks that followed, Bill began repairing bicycles at the shop with a fervour that mirrored his father's enthusiasm. And after his first salary, he was able to clear his debts and pay his rent.
