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Of bicycles and friends

The mechanics of bicycles, and more in particular of its brakes, have always been a mystery to me. Like most other things mechanical. As a safety precaution I don’t ride a bicyle of which I have worked on the brakes myself, so it has never been much of a problem.

But now our youngest is riding around with his rusted bicycle that we brought along. Fortunately he is unaware of my lack of confidence and experience in repairing brakes on a bicycle.   It works a bit like peace of mind: even if your peace of mind is based on false premises, you still have peace of mind. How cool is that.

So Kleinboet is happily riding around on his bicycle of which I fixed the brakes. I can think of no reason to shatter his peace of mind.

Then one morning our tea session with the neighbours gets rudely interrupted.

A boy of about fourteen arrives in a huge hurry. There has been an accident. Kleinboet fell on the tar he even bounced as he hit the tar he is bleeding and crying and does not look good it was an accident and he (the messenger) is very sorry he did not intend for Kleinboet to get hurt but oom must now come immediately please.

Few things can catapult one into action than a report of bodily harm to your kids. We rush over to where a crowd has formed. Kleinboet is in the middle, lying in the road. A fellow camper that might have been either a para-medic or a doctor reports that nothing seems to be broken, and that Kleinboet will survive. I pick him up (Kleinboet now, not the paramedic) and rush him over to the caravan so that we can attend to him.

Between the groaning and clenched teeth Kleinboet reports that his friend was doing these cool tricks with his (the friend’s – take note) bicycle. However, he still needed to work on the execution of one of these tricks. The problem came when he executed this one particular cool trick with Kleinboet sitting on the handle bars.

Civilisation

Civilisation seems to be reluctant to let go of his grip on me. I receive a call from the security company that my alarm went off. Paaah! I counted on the criminals to also at least stay at home if they cannot afford to go on holiday. Over the next few days I get another few calls. Eventually, between myself and the guy staying in our house, we get it figured out. One of my newly installed beams outside picks up on the sun’s reflection at a specific time of the day. So now we can just bypass that zone. Problem solved. No burglaries.

I often think of Bob Dylan while I’m here. The answer my friend, is sitting in the wind. Or something like that.

Kids do the darnest things

The thing with kids, nuh. Eisj……

I know our oldest has his last working day today. He will drive down from Cape Town tomorrow. But I also know that he comes off work at noon today. And I suspect Ouboet of intending to surprise us by coming today already instead of tomorrow.

At one minute past noon I receive a WhatsApp from him on how to locate Gouritsmond on the GPS, which he has with him for exactly this eason. So I assume he is now underway. Which means he should be here by 16h00.

So from about 16h00 I take up station under my gazibo from where I can watch the gate of the caravan park. By 17h30 I’m rather concerned. No Ouboet in sight, and there is no movement on Ouboet’s WhatsApp. Although I don’t want to send a message to his phone for fear of him checking it whilste driving, I nevertheless do so, innocuosly asking where he is. Ouboet immediately replies he is at a friend of his in Cape Town. I don’t believe him, but at least I know he is safe.

Just on 19h00 Ouboet arrives with a blaring hooter, very happy to have caught us by surprise. Later I notice the time on the petrol slip where he filled up at Riversdal. Exactly when he replied to me that he is with a friend in Cape Town.

The little sh*t.

Part 3 follows.