Travel Reference
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We could hear the distant rumble of an engine.
'That sounds like Ross,' said Sue as she made her way through the yard towards the
field.
The noise grew louder, but we still couldn't see past the thick blanket of mist. After a
while, a shape emerged from the haze and we could make out a quad bike coming towards
us.Rossweavedhiswaythroughthefield,avoidingcowtroughsandditches.Hepulledup
in front of us and turned off the engine. He was about 13 and was dressed in a boiler suit
'Ross,youareanabsolute legend, thankyousomuch,'saidBen,shakinghimfirmly by
the hand.
'That's ok,' said Ross with the voice of a 60 year-old farmer.
HeliftedthebikeoutofthetrailerandwheeledittoBen.ItwasaminiatureBMX,com-
pletely rusted over and it squealed as Ross pushed it. There was an ominous looking brake
cable hanging from the handlebars and there was something very wrong with one of the
wheels; it wasn't round. The seat wasn't attached properly, and the handlebars were at a
very odd angle. We didn't care. At that moment, it was the greatest thing we had ever seen
in our lives.
'The back wheel isn't screwed on properly and it's buckled but I have put some air in
the tyres for you. They should hopefully stay up,' he said as Ben climbed on.
Despite its obvious crapness, it was a wonderful piece of machinery. The basic mech-
anics of a bicycle - which we had always taken for granted - were now vividly apparent.
It really is a magnificent invention. The fact that moving your feet around in circles could
propel a crappy piece of rust along at a decent speed was quite astonishing.
'Oh, and the brakes don't work,' shouted Ross, just as Ben crashed into a huge metal
barn door.
'Brakes are overrated anyway,' I said. 'Stopping is not going to get us anywhere.'
We asked Sue and Ross if they had any ideas of places that we could spend the night.
'There's nothing between here and Zennor,' said Sue, 'but I'm sure you'll find some-
where to stay there. It even has a youth hostel.'
'But there's a wedding on tonight,' said Ross, 'so it might be completely full. You
should speak to a farmer called Harry Mann. He'll let you stay somewhere. Tell him I sent
you. He lives in a farm at the top of the hill, just outside of Zennor.'
We thanked Sue and Ross for their incredible generosity and gave Ross the wellies that
Ben had been carrying. Ross was as close to a pixie farmer as we were ever likely to meet.
It was almost dark, and we were still four miles from Zennor.
I did the first shift on the scooter and Ben pedalled the BMX. The difference they made
was unbelievable. The countryside wasn't whizzing by like it would on a racing bike, or
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