Who can resist anything shiny and metal? Especially something that also goes very
fast? Not me, that's for sure; and that’s
why I bought a motorcycle with sidecar (from ebay). I fitted it out with cross country tyres for
easy driving in forest situations and suspension for bumpy paths. Despite which I still thought I would fail
before I even started. I mean, this was
quite a wide vehicle - much wider than any cart or games board I had previously
wheeled through the forest. I guess I
was buying it for me mainly as a way of buying a motorcycle with acceptable
stabilisers (I can't ride a bicycle, you see...)
With this in mind, I went on a recce on the chosen day,
armed with a width stick and, to my surprise, found both a path to the clearing
from the road and a circuit that would take me through it three times.
After lunch and a laze around reading the weekend paper
supplements, I took the motorcycle and sidecar on its final drive around
mid-afternoon.
The noise of the motor was enough to bring the unicorn out
and she was waiting in the clearing when I pulled into it. Now I knew she could be a curious kitten so I
thought I would whizz around a few laps to get her blood up a bit - and to get
to know the route a bit - where I could push it, where I needed to be more
careful, that sort of thing. Each time I
came back racing through the clearing she watched me go past, her head turning
as I went by, getting more alert and excited on each pass-through. Once I knew the course, I brought the vehicle
to a halt back in the clearing and waited for the unicorn to get in.
Which she did almost instantly, breathing quickly, jittering
slightly, nervous but anxious to experience this new thing. But safety always comes first. I had bought a helmet identical to mine,
though smaller, and drilled a horn sized hole in it. I slipped this on her head, buckled it up and
revved up to pul away.
I took it quite slowly at first because I was still quite
unsure and the extra weight changed things a little. To the unicorn, though, it was like the Eurostar. She neighed with delight on the straights,
but was a little nervy on the corners as it often looked like we were tree
bound.
And then we started to go faster and her face became more
focused as she tried to take in every detail of this new experience. Every frame of vision, every feeling - the
wind rushing over her nose and body and about her neck, trying more by opening
her mouth and closing her eyes.
Round and round the course we sped. The plan, like with the sudoku, was to gain
her trust, or rather her complete concentration, before simply driving off the
course and out of the forest, taking quiet roads all the way home and into my
garage. As we sped around our little
circuit, neither of us noticed the mess we were making. The tyres were tearing up dirt under the
trees, and grass and flowers in the clearing, forming three distinct
paths. But we were oblivious, enjoying
the ride.
Suddenly on one lap, the path stopped being smooth- it
became bumpy, like the ridges you sometimes get before roundabouts, and I was
forced into slowing down a bit, confused.
The unicorn began to complain
about the discomfort. I turned to
her to reassure her and, out of the corner of my eye, I saw a creeper of some
sort shoot across the path. I had no
time to react and we drove straight over it.
Almost instantly we started to lose more speed, and control
too as the air came out of the tyres (you could hear the hiss mocking us). I promptly gave in and brought the motorcycle
to a stop.
At this point the forest made damn sure I wouldn't be able
to pull such a stunt again. Roots sprung
out of the ground and started to grow first around the wheels and then around
the whole vehicle before crushing it down slightly and making it prisoner. Needless to say myself and the unicorn had
jumped clear long before the crushing had begun.
And so that was that.
The unicorn walked away with heavy footfall - presumably disappointed
that the motorcycle had been put out of action rather than because my plan had
fallen apart. I started to walk to the edge of the forest
wondering how I would get home.
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