Pierre pedalled as fast as he could, his legs purring with satisfaction as the road opened up into a long, straight stretch. This road would take him all the way through the town and on to the sports field next to the river beyond.
His bicycle gathered speed. The ticking of the wheels through the gear mechanism became faster and faster. He began to feel the wind against his cheeks. His short, dark hair began to flutter and his smile grew wide.
He laughed out loud, then again, louder. His legs pumped as fast as they could, fingers loosely gripped the handlebars, and he leant low. Then as the road under the tires became a blur, he stopped pedalling. The bicycle carried on, gaining yet more speed from the road’s downward slant.
Joy flooded through Pierre’s veins. He held his feet flat, then pushed down through his legs, lifting his body upwards, standing on the pedals, wind whipping his shirt and exuberance billowing up his throat.
He burst into song, sending loud, deep syllables spiralling outwards in front of him.
“/Free is the man who lives at speed, flying along without care or need, singing the song for his brothers in arms, seeking and praising a young maiden’s charms!/”
Up ahead, a beautiful dark brown horse had pulled onto the road. Pierre saw a rider perched atop, blue jacket tapering at a narrow waist, golden hair flowing down under a black helmet.
Pierre lowered himself back onto the saddle, and pedalled hard again. His bicycle gathered speed once more and he shot past the horse. He turned his head and caught a glimpse of the rider’s smooth skin, and perhaps a delicate nose.
He waved over his shoulder.
She waved back.
To be continued…