Travel Reference
In-Depth Information
'Yeah, thanks mate,' said Ben. 'We really appreciate the offer, but I think we'll stick
with what we've got, for now, and hold up for something better. Apparently there's a bloke
who lives just out of St Ives who has a lot of bikes at his farm.'
'Yeah, his name's Roger Badcock,' said the boy. Ben sniggered again at the mention of
his name. 'And no worries about the bike. I don't think it's worth you guys keeping it. I
just thought I'd show it to you. Good luck with the rest of your trip.'
We gathered our stuff together and tied our boxer shorts to our rucksacks so they could
finish drying. Yes, we were both going commando. In a pair of thick woollen suit trousers,
it felt incredibly liberating.
The road out of St Ives climbed steeply away from the sea. We walked for about a mile
as there was simply no point trying to ride the scooter up hills. It was slower, and far more
exhausting than walking.
The road then reached a plateau before descending gradually into the village of Lelant.
We foundRoger Badcock'shouse fairly easily after piecing together a variety ofdirections
from different people.
His house was a sort ofpermanent mobile home, if such a paradox is possible. It was on
the edge of a patch of wasteland and the door was protected with a mesh fly screen. The
whole place was straight out of a 1970s horror film.
We knocked on the door. There was no answer.
I had held out great hope for Mr Badcock, and despite Ben suggesting we try a few
places in the built up metropolis that was St Ives, I was adamant that Roger was our man.
Weturnedtoleaveandhungourheadsindefeat.Itwasalready5pmanditwasunlikely
we would find bikes anywhere else that day.
'I guess we'll just have to head into the next village and look for…' I started, before
being interrupted with a voice behind us.
'Can I help you?'
RogerBadcockwasstandinginhisdoorway.Hewasoversixfeettallandhisbulkfilled
everyinchofthedoorframe.Hewaswearingagreenpoloshirtthatwascoveredinvarious
stains. His hair receded almost to the back of his scalp; he had a huge shock of black hair
spraying out from behind in all directions and a wonderful handlebar moustache.
'Hi there, we're really sorry to disturb you,' I said. 'Are you Mr Badcock?'
Ben sniggered to himself.
'Aye,' said Mr Badcock. 'That's me.'
'We've been told by several people that you might be able to help us out,' said Ben.
'We're cycling to John O'Groats without spending any money and we were wondering if
there was any chance that we could swap these bikes for something a bit more suitable for
long distance cycling.'
There was a pause while his tried to clean his smeared glasses on his t-shirt which only
made them worse.
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