Search for the Sunlight
Chapter 47

Nearing the summit, the irritating squeak of worn out bearings returned. The Wheel people had spotted him in the distance and were gathered together to cheer him on as he struggled up the steep slope with his booty of oil and spare parts.

‘That nasty noise will soon be a thing of the past,’ he told himself as he climbed through a hole in the safety fence onto level ground.

Sherlock was the first to greet him. “Well done lad!” he exclaimed. “And what was it like down there?”

“Pretty grubby really and not very exciting,” Harry replied, “but it served its purpose,” he added, removing the big oil can from his lapsack and holding it up in the air like a trophy.

It was then that Herbert noticed his brother was wearing his glasses.

“Why are you wearing your shades in the rain?” he asked.

“Cos I’m dead cool,” Harry groaned, laying the heavy oil can down on the ground and leaning forwards, supporting the weight of his upper body with both hands on top of the container while he caught his breath.

“No, seriously, why are you wearing them?” Herbert insisted,

“If you must know, the scrap yard was closed and I had to gain entry by, shall we say, inventive means.”

“So basically, you broke in,” Herbert interrupted.

Harry paused for a moment. “Eh - yes,” he replied. “There were Watch Fogs everywhere, so I put my shades on to avoid recognition and I guess I just forgot to take them off again.”

He stood up slowly and stretched his back, then opening the front compartment of his lapsack, he revealed the treasure trove of assorted spare parts that he had gathered.

Sherlock looked inside and gasped. There were ball races, wheel bearings, nuts, bolts and washers of every size, infact everything, and more, that he had asked for. Now the maintenance program could begin.

Parched and cold after his excursion, Harry returned to the meeting house for a well earned brew. The Wheel people were beside themselves. They could hardly wait to get started.

Catherine set about allocating everyone with a personal number while Richard and Douglas opened the old workshop at the back of the house and began sifting through the various tools and hardware that had lain untouched on the shelves for years.

With surgeon-like precision, Sherlock prepared the workbench and laid out the required tools. He instructed each individual to wait in line and when he was ready, he called them in numerical order and began dismantling their worn out forks and bearings.

One by one, he stripped them back to their component parts, replacing old for new, while Basil and Herbert busied themselves mending the numerous holes in the rusty safety fence that surrounded the Plateau. Everyone was busy, except Harry.

Laden with guilt in the knowledge that his chums were toiling hard outside while he sat by the fire drinking tea, Harry stepped out from the meeting house and declared himself ready for duty.

While Sherlock removed the wheels and replaced the worn out bearings, Harry mended the punctures with marshmelon skins.

At first they were a little dry and unmanageable, but after a light dousing with spring water from the fountain, they soon became soft and malleable.

He cut the skins into rectangular pieces, just big enough to cover the largest tears on the inner tubes, and stuck them down with pink melon gum. When the glue was dry he replaced the tyres and inflated the tubes with the fruit pump.

Soon they had established a system and in no time at all the Wheel people were scooting about effortlessly on their newly oiled and silent running wheels. It was as if they were youngsters again.

The restoration program had been a huge success and delighted with the outcome, Sherlock congratulated Harry and the others on their sterling efforts and excellent team work. Later that evening, after several well earned mugs of ‘Red Road Special,’ an industrial brew of the highest strength, the travellers settled down for the night in the sad knowledge, that come the morning they must say their goodbyes to these kindly folks and move on.