by Ben Onslow
I ignore her. It’s all right for her. She cleaned the section. She might even be beating me on points.
I stare at the creek and watch Eli’s ride. He shifts his weight back a bit, gently squeezes on the throttle. Not full revs like he used to and carries on going forward.
Sam grins at the lack of comment, all hazel eyes and freckles across her nose. “At least you aren’t coming off or stalling. You’ve got no fives,” she says.
That’s about all I haven’t got.
“Too cold to risk coming off.” Eli avoids the willows and carries on along the creek, still smooth as.
“Maybe the universe is trying to teach you humility,” says Sam.
I give a bit of a snort at that. If Sam’s right, then the universe should stay out of this competition.
Eli comes out between the flags and rides back to us.
“Great ride,” says Sam.
Eli grins, stops in front of me, undoes his helmet and pulls out his card. He always manages to keep that scorecard in one piece.
The zero gets clipped.
Again.
“You cleaned it,” I say.
“Yeah,” says Eli. “You showed me where the willows were.”
The smart arse.
A couple of bikes come over to our section, putter near us, but most of the noise around the course has stopped.
“I need to go back,” Eli says. “Our team takes a break after the second lap to review how we are going.”
Sam pushes the cuff of her glove down to see her watch.
“It’s lunchtime anyway,” she says. “I have to refuel, and Dad will want to check the bike. What are you doing for lunch?” she asks me.
“Mum has packed a picnic.”
“Lucky you,” she says. “We stopped at the dairy on the way up.” She sticks her helmet back on and does it up.
Me, Sam and Eli trundle on our bikes, along the farm track to the paddock where all the vehicles are parked and the committee organising the champs are set up. There’s a cluster of helmets, logos and riding boots milling around the tent. A few other riders tear past us, their bikes just a streak of colour and a waft of fuel.
We go into the tent and hand in the cards for the second lap.
The woman at the computer takes them.
“Joshua Reeve,” she mutters to herself as she’s scrolling down to find my name.
She finds it, and ones and twos are lined up beside it already. At least it’s not threes and fives. The way she had to scroll I figure I’m already sitting around about halfway down the field. The second lap won’t have improved things. I’ll need to ride like a demon this afternoon if I’m going to claw my way up the placings.
I don’t bother to watch the scores go up on the screen. I wander back to the bikes, flick up the stand, lean on mine, and wait for Eli and Sam to come back.
“How did you go?” I ask Eli when he comes over.
“Sitting third.” He takes his helmet off and runs his hand over his hair, all sandy coloured and sticking up.
“Congratulations.”
“A bit early yet,” says Eli, swinging his boot over his bike, then flicking the stand up with his toe. “We’ve still got another lap to go.”
“Got to go.” He points to where his club is based. Vans and trailers and utes cluster around a couple of pergolas.
“Yeah, okay. See you later.”
He trundles off and Sam comes over.
“And?” I ask.
She gives a bit of a grin and a bounce as she goes round to her bike. Even in heavy boots to her knees and riding pants, she’s smooth and graceful. Good balance, like a dancer. It makes for a great moto trials rider.
“First in my division at the moment,” she says.
“Thought you were going well.”
“For a girl?” She dodges another couple of riders coming the other way. My eyes follow her. She’s tall and lean to the point of skinny, no hips, no breasts, but I like the way she moves.
I go around a puddle. It hasn’t started drying out and this is the middle of summer.
We push our motorbikes to the gate, then through into the carpark.
A couple of other bikes take off in a spray of dirt and revs. So much for not cutting up this paddock.
“Are you staying in Taupo tonight?” I ask.
“Nah,” she says, and the labrador hair swings when she shakes her head. “We’re driving home after prize giving. Dad’s got work tomorrow. What about you?”
“Matt wants to go straight home. He’s got something on.”
“Is Matt here?” asks Sam. And you know that expression, her eyes lit up? It really does happen.
“What?” she says.
“Nothing,” I say.
“Well, your brother’s hot,” says Sam.
“Jesus,” I say, and look at her sideways. “You haven’t seen him since you were thirteen.”
“Thirteen-year-olds have eyes,” says Sam. “And he wears a uniform now.” She stops and does that pretend fanning herself thing. It looks pretty silly with motorbike gloves and holding a helmet. She shouldn’t pretend to be a girl.
“Jesus,” I say again. “Thought you didn’t do boyfriends.”
“Might make an exception for Matt.”
“Come over to the ute and talk to him then.”
Sam gives an eye roll. “Just kidding.” We walk on.
After a while Sam asks, “Have you decided where you are going this year yet?”
“Waikato University,” I say. This year is the end of college for me. My future career’s been up for discussion in the last few months. I’ve finally made a decision about where to go.
“Studying what?” asks Sam.
“Business. You still planning on being a vet?”
“Yep, been accepted at Massey.”
“Can’t you get to be a vet in Wellington?”
“No, and that’s lucky because, if you could, I’d have to live at home.” She screws her nose up.
We get to her dad and their van.
“Hey, Josh.” Sam’s dad eases himself out of the white plastic chair under the pergola. He’s as chubby as Sam is slim. I met him and Sam when Sam and I were kids.
The chair legs have buried themselves in the mud. He’s already got the toolbox and gas can ready. They’re sitting beside the bike stand. He does all Sam’s maintenance. It’s not a bad deal having your own personal mechanic and driver.
“Hi, Mr Harrison,” I say.
“Mike,” he says. “How did you go?” he asks Sam.
“Coming first.” She gives that bounce again.
“Are we changing the oil?”
“Probably should. There’s a lot of water on the course.” She opens the door of the ute, brings out a couple of white paper bags and a bottle. “Want a drink, Josh?” she offers. Her dad has got the bike up on a stand and is starting to drain the oil.
“Nah, I’ll go see Matt.”
I leave her to it and wander back to Dad’s Hilux.
Matt’s sitting on the tailgate waiting.
“How are you going today?” he asks.
I drop my helmet and gloves beside the wheel of the ute. Lift the bike onto the stand.
“Just great.” I sit on the other side of the tray and look at Matt with slightly different eyes. Even though he’s six years older than me, looking at him is usually just a bit like looking into a mirror. He’s tall, darkish hair, with greyish eyes like me, but that’s where the mirror thing ends. We might look alike but Matt’s built. He looks like he could conquer the world.
He opens a container and pulls out a bit of bacon and egg pie.
“That good?” He slides the picnic basket over to me.
I check out the contents and go for the pie too.
“Yeah, that good.”
“What’s going wrong?” asks Matt.
I hear a motor start and rev a bit. There’s a waft of oil and fuel. The parking area is packed. Some riders are getting their bikes ready for
the next lap, some are just sitting having lunch.
“Don’t know.” I take a bite.
“Is your bike holding you back?”
“Maybe.” I ride a three-year-old 125cc Gas Gas. “Need to update it. I’m working on it. Need the funds though.” I lift up the pastry and chuck out the peas. Mum only put the peas in because Matt’s home.
At the end of the parking area, Eli, Henc and a few others are standing around two old guys.
I wave my pie in their direction.
“They aren’t making mistakes.”
Matt glances at the cluster at the end of the carpark.
“Who are the old guys?” he asks.
“Harvey and Howard Wilson.”
There’s a bit of talking and pointing going on in the group. I see Harvey with his arms out like he’s holding onto handlebars and squatting into a turn. Eli nods and imitates.
I take another bite of the pie, its good.
Matt watches the group for a bit longer.
“Looks like Eli’s getting some coaching.”
“Yeah, Eli and his mates are in a development squad.”
I check the basket again and haul out a scone and a bottle of water.
Matt watches what’s going on. “Probably the coaching is making the difference.” He balances the bit of pie on his leg and reaches for the thermos. “How do you get a ride on this squad?”
“Not sure. Shoulder tapped, or you buy your way in?”
Matt grins at that.
Sam might be right. Matt might be hot.
“Do you want coffee?” asks Matt.
“Nah, better get ready for the next lap.”
“Do you want help?”
“Yeah, that would be good.”
We start to refuel and change the oil. Like Sam said, we’ve been riding through a fair bit of water today. The bike might be sealed but stuff happens.
From behind me, I hear, “I see you boys haven’t forgotten what I taught you.” I look up and there’s Pop, our grandfather, wandering over to us.
He’s tall and skinny, like me, but bent over. He used to live with us, but he met someone, now he’s in a retirement village in Taupo.
“Hey, Pop.” I wipe my hands, put the rag in the toolbox.
Matt stands up. “I didn’t think you’d make it.”
“Couldn’t miss the chance to watch Josh ride.” Pop used to ride moto trials with the Wilson brothers. Between the three of them they won everything for years, added a few world titles. I guess that’s the reason I got into trials. All those stories.
With Pop’s help we clean the filters, then check the rest of the bike too. I wipe my hands and put the rags in the toolbox.
Eli and Sam ride over.
“Hi Matt,” says Eli. “Josh, I picked up your score card from the tent.”
“Hi Eli,” says Matt. “Hey, Samantha.”
Sam nods but stays real quiet.
She’s all talk.
Eli hands the card over and I tuck it in my pocket, then put my helmet and gloves on.
“What are you doing now?” I ask Matt and Pop.
“We’ll walk around the course at our own speed,” says Matt.
“Eleven is good to watch,” says Eli. “Real steep.”
“I’ll wander over there then,” says Pop.
Me, Sam and Eli weave our way through the utes and vans and tents and ride off with a heap of others to start the next lap.
This section is up a hill covered in pine trees. The line of flags waves in the breeze. They go from the bottom of the hill along the creek, and then up a slope and down again.
We stop just back from the start flags and look at the run.
“The best line is to the left,” says Eli, making a snaking movement with his hand.
“Keep away from the low branches,” says Sam and glances at me.
“Thanks for the advice.”
We do the section. They ride clear. So do I this time. We move on.
When we get to the third section, Pop and Matt are already there. They’ re leaning on the fence talking to Harvey Wilson. Pop calls me over.
“Josh,” says Pop. “Have you met Harvey?”
“No.” I know plenty about him. but haven’t actually met him before.
Harvey shakes my hand. “Good to meet you, Josh, I’ve been watching you ride. You’re going well.”
“Thanks.” I have my doubts about that, but I take praise where I can.
Pop leans back against the fence looking pretty pleased with himself.
“Harvey was just saying he wouldn’t mind having you in his team. Says there are a few things he can help you with.”
It’s huge. Harvey wants me on the development squad.
“What do you think of Harvey’s offer?” asks Matt, as we are driving home. He stops for a red light and looks at me. Matt’s pretty supportive, even though moto trials really aren’t his thing, he says playing chess on a motorbike, trying to think three moves ahead, doesn’t appeal.
“I’m keen,” I say, “but a seven-hour drive is a long commute.”
Matt laughs as he pulls away.
“You’ve got to think outside the square,” says Matt. “Mum says you’re going to Waikato next year.”
“Yeah.”
“What are you studying?’
“Accountancy.”
“You’re going to be an accountant?” asks Matt, glancing at me. “How did that happen?”
“Well, I thought rock star and professional trials rider,” I say. “But that didn’t go down well with the old man.”
Matt laughs again, “Didn’t you have a Plan B?”
“No, and Dad wanted accountant, so he’d get mates rates on the farm accounts. Mum thought I could be a doctor. The teachers agreed with Dad.” I did tell them I’d be happy to stay on the farm and help Dad when I finish school, but he wasn’t having any of that either.
Probably should have had a bit more of a plan.
“You’re the only person I know who’d conduct a poll to decide his future” says Matt. “You care too much about what others think.”
We’re quiet for a while. At about Tokoroa, Matt comes up with an idea.
“What about going to Massey?” he says. “Then you’re in Palmerston North and can ride with the team. While you’re studying, you get the coaching. You’d learn a lot, fast.”
“The semester starts in three weeks, it’s a bit late to change.”
“I bet kids change their mind all the time.”
I think about that. He’s probably right. And why not? At least I’ll already know a couple of people there. There’s Eli, he’s there working for his dad as a mechanic, and that’s where Sam is going.
It sounds like a plan. If I am stuck with doing a degree, I might as well get some coaching while I’m at it.
“Good idea,” I say.
We drive along a bit more, and then Matt looks at me again.
“I need you to do something for me,” he says.
“Anything,” I say. He’s just come down to Taupo with me for two days, helped me with my bike all weekend. Now he’s driving me home again. Not to mention getting me in this development squad.
Matt squints a bit when we turn a corner. The sun is starting to set. It’s low in the sky and straight ahead of us.
“I need to talk to Mum and Dad and I’m going to do it after dinner. I need you to disappear for a couple of hours and give me some space.”
“You going to quit being a cop too?” I ask, because the last time he needed space he was telling Mum and Dad he was dropping out of university, and he’d only been there a couple of years. I walked in on the beginning, wandered into the kitchen intent on raiding the fridge after a hard day’s riding, and Dad’s voice came from the dining room.
“Give us some space for a while, Joshua.” The voice was terse.
In the dining room, Matt sat on one side of the table looking belligerent, leaning back in his chair, horizontal, hands shoved deep in jeans
pockets. Mum and Dad were on the other side. Dad like thunder and Mum crying.
I was happy to give them all the space they wanted.
“Something like that,” he says.
I glance at him. His jaw is tight like he’s going into battle. If the prospect of talking to Mum and Dad makes him feel like that, he can have all the space he wants. While the battle is raging, I’ll be in the shed working on my bike.
That night, at the dinner table, Matt introduces the idea of me joining the squad.
“The Wilson brothers want Josh,” he says.
Mum brings the salad over. My mum is smallish. Her hair’s brown at the moment.
“That’s wonderful, Joshua,” she says.
Dad thumps his fork on the table and makes the salt pot jump. He’s where the height and colouring come from. Greyish eyes, had darkish hair, but it matches the eyes now. Those eyes are behind glasses.
“Joshua’s going to university,” he says.
“The squad is a big opportunity,” says Mum as she sits down.
“Waste of time and money,” says Dad like that is the end of this discussion.
“What about Massey?” suggests Matt ignoring Dad. “Josh can study, then ride with the squad in his spare time.”
“I could do a BA,” I say. Never was too happy about the accountant plan. “Three years of reading books and riding trials sounds good to me.”
It’s pretty much my only contribution to this discussion.
Just get a huff from Dad like that idea isn’t even worth considering.
“What about sticking with business studies then?” says Matt.
Dad nods.
Okay, I can live with that.
Now my future is sorted again, Matt’s looking at me across the table.
That’s right. He needs space. I make my exit. I’m not planning on being around when he tells them he’s quitting the police force too.
I muck around with my bike for an hour or so then decide it’s probably safe to go inside again. Besides, I am bloody tired. It has been a long weekend with the drive to Taupo, riding for two days solid then driving back.
But as I go through the dining room, Mum is crying again. Dad is looking like thunder again. Matt is on the other side of the table, elbows placed firmly on top, chin resting on his linked fingers, waiting them out.
“See you in the morning,” I say, and walk on through the dining room door to the passageway.