Creosote

4. The Pit

“Would you like to see my ten-speed?” I asked my cousin Bob. I could think of nothing else to do or say.

“Okay,” Bob replied. We got up from the kitchen table and went outside.

I loved my bicycle. I had raised three pigs last year to buy it. Dad and I took two of them to the livestock auction in Saskatoon in the spring. Dad kept the money from one for buying the piglets and their feed and I got the money from the other for feeding and caring for them. The third was butchered for the family. Dad and I went together to order the ten-speed at McLeod’s. I had picked it out from their 1971 Spring issue catalogue. Stores in Biggar didn’t stock ten-speeds. The bike I chose from the catalogue was an Iverson. The name meant nothing to me, but I liked that each letter was capitalized and in a white diamond on the violet bar between the seat and handlebar column. When it came in mother and I made a special trip to town to get it and I could not wait to ride it. When we were half-way home, I got mother to drop me and the bike off. Eleven miles on gravel roads! I had never peddled that far on my old one-speed but was sure I could on my new ten-speed. As mother crested the hill and left me behind I discovered I couldn’t shift up from the low gear. The rear derailleur cable had not been tightened. I rode the whole way home in fifth and tenth gear. Even so, I was in heaven.

“It’s good on the hills,” I said. My throat was tightening up again. I could not look at Bob, so we stood staring at my bicycle.

“Lift the back end. I’ll run it through the gears.” I knelt beside my bike and grabbed the pedal. Bob lifted the back. My chest was tight, and my fingers were cold. I took a deep breath, pulled up on the shifting lever, and cranked the pedal. The chain moved from sprocket to sprocket. Tears started dripping from my cheeks. The wheel was spinning.

Bob set the back end down and the wheel pitched gravel towards the house and stopped.

“I think I’ll be getting one this fall,” Bob said. I stood up and kept my gaze locked on my bike.

“That’s great. You’ll love it.” My voice was cracking. I couldn’t talk anymore and had to get away. “I think I’ll go for a walk Bob. See you later.” I leaned my bicycle up on the house and hiked towards the back pasture. My dog Tammy tagged along. I climbed through the barbwire fence, and Tammy ran off chasing a killdeer. I winged a stone at the dugout, but it was too heavy to skip. It splashed, and the ducks flew off. I took a cow path that led to the gravel pit. Tammy followed. At the top of the hill, I looked back as I heard a car coming into our drive. It was the ambulance. I stopped, turned, and watched. Uncle Roy and Vince came out of the house and walked to the barn with the two men from the ambulance. They carried a stretcher. No one hurried. It was about ten minutes before they came out of the barn again. Vince came first with Dad’s cap in his hand. Then came the two ambulance men carrying the stretcher. A white cloth covered Dad’s body. I could see his gum rubber boots sticking out but his head was covered. Uncle Roy came last, closed and latched the barn door. When the ambulance disappeared over the hill, I turned away and carried on through the pasture to the gravel pit. I sat in the gravel near the top edge of the pit. I had to take off my glasses, clean them, and rub tears from my eyes. I could not think. Reruns from the day and times spent with Dad bombarded me.