helmet. She strapped it on.
“Be careful,” Peter told her. “Trikes seem like they’d be more stable than a two-wheeled cycle, but they aren’t. If you lean too far the wrong way into a turn, you’re going to flip.”
“I know what you mean,” Hú Dié said. “I have built a few large delivery trikes for customers in China. I will be fine.”
Hú Dié began to turn the cranks, and her taut biceps and triceps bulged out of nowhere as she made her way up the sloped driveway toward the road.
Peter glanced at me. “That girl is a rock.”
“Actually, she’s steel.” Jake laughed. “Her name means Iron Butterfly in Chinese. Whatever you do, don’t bump fists with her.”
“I heard that!” Hú Dié shouted as she crested the driveway and turned right, heading up the hill.
I nodded at the road cycle. “Can I try that one now? I don’t need to change my clothes.”
“Be my guest,” Peter said.
“Come on, bro,” Jake whined. “Let me go next.”
“Fat chance,” I said as I put on my riding gloves and helmet.
“Promise me you’ll take it easy,” Peter said. “It’s a bit more squirrely than the mountain cycle.”
“Just like a regular road bike,” Phoenix muttered.
“That’s right,” Peter said. “It goes with the territory. Speed comes at a price.”
I climbed onto the bike and was surprised how comfortable it felt. The backrest went all the way up to my head. Peter strapped me in, one seat belt–like strap going around my waist while separate straps went around each ankle.
“This is my personal racing bike,” Peter said. “You and I are about the same height, and our arms are about the same length. It should feel pretty good to you.”
“It does,” I said. “I could probably take a nap on this thing.”
“Not while you’re riding, you won’t.”
“I’m kidding.”
“I know, but you need to be constantly aware on any bike, especially this one. You’re very close to the ground, and I haven’t outfitted it with a flag because I only ride it in races. Cars will have a difficult time seeing you.”
“I’ll keep my eyes peeled,” I said. “I promise.”
“All right,” Peter said. “You want me to give you a push up the driveway? This thing climbs like a two-ton snail.”
“Naw,” I said. “If a girl can do it, so can I.”
Peter chuckled. “If you say so.”
“Hurry back, Beefcake,” Jake said. “I want my turn.”
Peter raised an eyebrow. “Beefcake?”
“Never mind,” I said.
I began to crank, my hands revolving in unison. It was a strange sensation. It was more like rowing a boat than pedaling a bike. It was also hard work. I broke a sweat halfway to the top of the driveway, and by the time I reached the street, I smelled like the inside of a dragon bone container. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea, after all. I wasn’t ready to tell Peter or Jake about the substance yet. I was going to have to buy some stronger deodorant, or maybe some cologne.
“Nice work!” Peter called out. “I guess those big guns of yours are good for something!”
I raised my hand and waved, but unfortunately the hand I’d raised also controlled the only brake lever. The bike veered left and began to roll down the steep street. Fast.
“Oh, crap!” I said. I found the brake lever and began to feather it, but it was too late. I had too much speed. I squeezed the brake lever hard, and the cycle began to skid.
“Ryan, look out!” Hú Dié shouted from somewhere behind me. She must have turned around and was now heading down the hill, too.
Ahead of me, a car was coming around the bend at the very bottom of the hill, between the stone seawall and the hillside.
I released the brake lever and turned the cycle hard in an effort to stop my skid.
Bad idea.
The trike toppled over and careened into the rocky hillside. My head smacked against the headrest, knocking my helmet over my eyes. I saw stars and tasted blood in my mouth. I must have bitten my
“Be careful,” Peter told her. “Trikes seem like they’d be more stable than a two-wheeled cycle, but they aren’t. If you lean too far the wrong way into a turn, you’re going to flip.”
“I know what you mean,” Hú Dié said. “I have built a few large delivery trikes for customers in China. I will be fine.”
Hú Dié began to turn the cranks, and her taut biceps and triceps bulged out of nowhere as she made her way up the sloped driveway toward the road.
Peter glanced at me. “That girl is a rock.”
“Actually, she’s steel.” Jake laughed. “Her name means Iron Butterfly in Chinese. Whatever you do, don’t bump fists with her.”
“I heard that!” Hú Dié shouted as she crested the driveway and turned right, heading up the hill.
I nodded at the road cycle. “Can I try that one now? I don’t need to change my clothes.”
“Be my guest,” Peter said.
“Come on, bro,” Jake whined. “Let me go next.”
“Fat chance,” I said as I put on my riding gloves and helmet.
“Promise me you’ll take it easy,” Peter said. “It’s a bit more squirrely than the mountain cycle.”
“Just like a regular road bike,” Phoenix muttered.
“That’s right,” Peter said. “It goes with the territory. Speed comes at a price.”
I climbed onto the bike and was surprised how comfortable it felt. The backrest went all the way up to my head. Peter strapped me in, one seat belt–like strap going around my waist while separate straps went around each ankle.
“This is my personal racing bike,” Peter said. “You and I are about the same height, and our arms are about the same length. It should feel pretty good to you.”
“It does,” I said. “I could probably take a nap on this thing.”
“Not while you’re riding, you won’t.”
“I’m kidding.”
“I know, but you need to be constantly aware on any bike, especially this one. You’re very close to the ground, and I haven’t outfitted it with a flag because I only ride it in races. Cars will have a difficult time seeing you.”
“I’ll keep my eyes peeled,” I said. “I promise.”
“All right,” Peter said. “You want me to give you a push up the driveway? This thing climbs like a two-ton snail.”
“Naw,” I said. “If a girl can do it, so can I.”
Peter chuckled. “If you say so.”
“Hurry back, Beefcake,” Jake said. “I want my turn.”
Peter raised an eyebrow. “Beefcake?”
“Never mind,” I said.
I began to crank, my hands revolving in unison. It was a strange sensation. It was more like rowing a boat than pedaling a bike. It was also hard work. I broke a sweat halfway to the top of the driveway, and by the time I reached the street, I smelled like the inside of a dragon bone container. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea, after all. I wasn’t ready to tell Peter or Jake about the substance yet. I was going to have to buy some stronger deodorant, or maybe some cologne.
“Nice work!” Peter called out. “I guess those big guns of yours are good for something!”
I raised my hand and waved, but unfortunately the hand I’d raised also controlled the only brake lever. The bike veered left and began to roll down the steep street. Fast.
“Oh, crap!” I said. I found the brake lever and began to feather it, but it was too late. I had too much speed. I squeezed the brake lever hard, and the cycle began to skid.
“Ryan, look out!” Hú Dié shouted from somewhere behind me. She must have turned around and was now heading down the hill, too.
Ahead of me, a car was coming around the bend at the very bottom of the hill, between the stone seawall and the hillside.
I released the brake lever and turned the cycle hard in an effort to stop my skid.
Bad idea.
The trike toppled over and careened into the rocky hillside. My head smacked against the headrest, knocking my helmet over my eyes. I saw stars and tasted blood in my mouth. I must have bitten my
Similar Books
