Wild Ride
Text copyright © 2005 by Matt Christopher Royalties, Inc. Illustrations copyright © 2005 by Michael Koelsch
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the publisher, except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages in a review.
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First eBook Edition: July 2007
The Little, Brown and Company Publishing name and logo is a trademark of Hachette Book Group, Inc.
The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.
Matt Christopher
®
is a registered trademark of Catherine M. Christopher.
ISBN: 978-0-316-02595-9
Contents
Jonas Malloy blew on his icy fingertips and rubbed his hands together. Despite the bright April-morning sunshine pouring through a window, it was cold inside the Malloys’ garage. But Jonas didn’t care. He was busy cleaning his mountain bike to get it ready for the first ride of the season.
“ ’Bout time you came out of hibernation,” he said to his bike as he squatted down next to it. Arranged on the floor beside him were some clean rags, a pair of rubber gloves, a small bottle of bike-chain lubricant, and a dry paintbrush. He selected the brush first. Starting at one end, he used it to flick a winter’s worth of dust and dirt from the frame and wheels.
“Want to tackle my bike next?”
Jonas looked over his shoulder. His father stood in the doorway, a big grin on his face.
Jonas jerked a thumb to where his dad’s bike leaned against the wall. “Already took care of it. Anything to get us out on the trails sooner!”
Mr. Malloy’s grin faded. “Jonas, I know you’re anxious to do some biking. But even though you and the bikes are ready, the trails might not be. You know my rule: Until the trails are safe, no riding.”
Jonas spun the bike’s back wheel. “I know,” he mumbled.
“Course, that doesn’t mean we can’t ride
to
the trails,” his father continued with a smile. “How about we ride over after lunch and take a hike up the mountain to check things out?”
Jonas’s eyes lit up. “That’d be great!” he replied. “Thanks, Dad.” He held up the paintbrush. “Meantime, I’ll keep cleaning my bike.”
Mr. Malloy nodded and returned to the house. Jonas turned his attention back to his bike. He went over every inch of it with the brush. Then he rubbed it all over with a dry rag to remove any last specks of dirt the brush had missed.
“Now for the chain,” he said. He flipped the bike over and balanced it on its handlebars and seat. After pulling on a pair of rubber gloves, he picked up another soft, clean cloth and draped it over a section of chain. Holding the cloth-covered chain with one hand, he turned the pedals with the other to make the chain move. After a few turns, the cloth had cleaned the outside of the entire chain.
Then he picked up the bottle of lubricant. Working slowly and carefully, he applied the thick, black liquid to each link. He waited a few minutes, then once again ran the chain through the cloth. When he was done, the chain was clean and freshly oiled.
Jonas flipped the bike over, leaned it against the garage wall, and stood back to admire his work. The bike shone like new. As he began to pick up his cleaning supplies, he couldn’t help but grin.
I can hardly wait to get it muddy again!
After lunch, Jonas and his father set off for the mountain.
“Your bike working okay?” Mr. Malloy asked as they rode along.
“Running as smooth as a fruit smoothie!” Jonas joked.
“Mine, too. Thanks for getting it ready.”
Fifteen minutes later, they rode into a parking lot at the base of a small mountain. On the other side of the mountain was the cleared-off slope where Jonas and his friends went snowboarding during the winter. On this side of the mountain, trails had been cut in and around the trees and boulders. Some trails were just for hikers. Others were marked for mountain bikers. Every so often the two types of trails intersected. These intersections were marked clearly so hikers and bikers could be on the lookout and avoid collisions.
“Well,” Mr. Malloy said, “let’s go take a look.” He locked up his bike, shouldered a backpack, and started up a hiking trail. Jonas was right behind him.
It was only the first week of April. A few trees had leaf buds on them, but most were bare. On the ground, unseen creatures scurried through beds of old leaves. Jonas heard a bird call from above and craned his neck to look for it.
Whump!
“Oof!”
Mr. Malloy grunted.
“Sorry, Dad!” Mr. Malloy had stopped suddenly, and Jonas had walked smack into him.
“No problem,” Mr. Malloy said. “Or, actually, I should say small problem. Look up ahead.”
The trail in front of them was completely blocked by a fallen tree. Branches stuck up every which way, making it impossible to climb over the trunk.
“We’ll have to go around,” Mr. Malloy said. “Follow me.”
They stepped off the path and began to pick their way carefully through a tangle of old brush. Prickers grabbed at Jonas’s pants, forcing him to stop and pull them free. Two steps later, his foot sank into a mire of swampy mud. There was a wet sucking sound when he yanked it out. Mr. Malloy wasn’t having an easy time of it, either. “Drat!” he muttered as he tripped over a tree root.
Finally, they made it around the fallen tree and back to the trail. But even then it was slow going. Winter had taken its toll, filling the path with tree branches. Snowmelt had left huge puddles of water and mud in the hollows. They even came across a pile of rocks from a rock slide. After twenty minutes, Mr. Malloy took off the backpack and leaned against a boulder.
“Whew!” he said. “This trail is in rough shape!” He handed Jonas a water bottle, then took a swig from his own. “And I’ll bet the other trails are just as bad.”
Jonas almost choked mid-swallow. He had a sneaking suspicion that his dad was about to say something he didn’t want to hear. He was right.
“Jonas, I’m afraid that until these trails are cleared, there’ll be no biking. Sorry, pal.” He stood up, shouldered the pack again, and began to head back down the trail.
Jonas knew his father was only thinking about his safety. And he knew it would be risky to bike in such conditions. But still, as he followed his father down the mountain and to their bikes, disappointment ran through his veins.
If only there were something I could do,
he thought as they rode out of the lot.
They were halfway home when he realized there
was
something he could do.
“Dad!” he yelled. “Turn around! Quick!”
Mr. Malloy braked sharply. “What is it? Are you hurt?”
“No,” Jonas replied. “We need to go to the Community Center so I can talk to Alison. Please?”
The Community Center ran the local skatepark in the spring, summer, and fall, and then the slope in the winter. Alison Lee, the teenager who oversaw both the skatepark and the slope, was so into extreme sports that Jonas was sure she’d be willing to help him.
Five minutes later, they pulled up in front of the center. Jonas hurried inside, followed closely by his father. He spotted Alison behind the front desk.
“Yo, Malloys, what’s up?” Alison greeted them.
Jonas told her about the impassable trails. “So what I was hoping,” he finished, “was that you’d help me figure out a way to get the trails ready for biking. And hiking, too, of course,” he added.
Alison drummed her fingers on the desktop. “Funny you should ask. I’ve been planning to organize a clean-up day for those trails. From what you’ve said, it sounds like we’re going to need a big crew.”
Her eyes flicked toward a wall calendar. “Hmm. The skatepark opens next Saturday. I’ll be too busy to do anything that day” — Jonas’s heart started to sink — “so how about the day after?”
Jonas’s heart leapt up again.
“Tell you what,” Alison said, “if you find enough people willing to put in a full day of hard work next Sunday, I’ll be there to show them what needs to be done. Just make sure everyone wears pants and long sleeves and has a pair of heavy-duty work gloves. Think you can do that?”
“Absolutely!” Jonas cried. “Thanks, Alison!”
She waved a hand. “No sweat, kid. In the meantime, I’ll post a sign warning people to stay off the trails.”
The minute Jonas got home, he started calling his friends.
“X, ol’ buddy, ol’ friend, ol’ pal!” he said when Xavier “X” McSweeney answered his phone.
“Uh, oh,” X replied. “What’s with the buddy-friend-pal stuff? You must want something.”
Jonas filled him in. X readily agreed to help with the cleanup.
“I’ll ask my mom, too. She loves all that outdoorsy stuff.”
“Excellent! And call Savannah and Charlie, would you?” Jonas said. Their friends Savannah Smith and Charlie Abbott were also into extreme sports. “I’ll call Bizz and Mark.”
Belicia “Bizz” Juarez and Mark Goldstein promised to lend a hand that Sunday. Both said they’d ask their parents to join them. Jonas left a message at the Community Center telling Alison he’d rounded up a crew. He was still smiling when he hung up the phone.
Now if I can just put mountain biking out of my mind for the next week, I’ll be all set!
Luckily, the following week was a busy one for Jonas. Besides going to school every day and doing his homework at night, he had to get his inline skates and skateboard ready for the grand reopening of the skatepark on Saturday.
