The Train

Todays 85 percent is a short but sweet one. It's a memory which sums up the 85 ideal so succinctly I am proud to have been a part of it. I was annoyed at the same time but it's been a while since I have had a spotting quite so neat.

After working late for a few nights I finally managed to leave the office on time. I stepped out of the front doors and happily ambled towards the station, my mind content with the fact that my night was now free to get some things done and also because I could finish the chapter of the book I became engrossed in 8 hours earlier.

I stepped onto the train and realised there were no seats free. Not a problem, I thought and rested my back against the partition so I could read my book. One stop later however the door opened and a number of passengers came in, one of which was holding a bike in one hand and an unlit cigarette in the other. Straight away I knew he was going to do something special.

He nonchalantly (a word which up until now I have never used) stepped into the train and moved his bike over to the opposite doors; the doors I was stood next to about to read my book. He then proceeded to rest his bike there and test it's stability.

I think it's important to mention at this point that the train itself was actually not moving. I think it's also important to mention that the bike was positioned in a straight line exactly the same as the train; it's wheels free to move back and forward should some kind of movement affect it. The kind you would imagine would be quite likely on a train.

I watched him as he leant the handlebar against the window, the only part of the bike which would have had any effect on preventing it's movement. The looked in the man's eyes showed me he was happy with the positioning and subsequently he knew that his efforts had meant his bike was almost perfectly safe against movement of any kind. In fact the look in his eye made me think he had made the bike almost invincible.

He stepped away from the bike and found a seat some distance down the aisle. A seat which had no view of the bike. Suddenly the train began to move and I watched the bike as it too began to roll backwards towards an old woman. Putting my book to one side I grabbed the bike handle and carried on holding it for the next six stops before the man got up from his seat and wandered over to get his bike. At this point I let go of the bike, something that seemed invisible to the man and he looked at it with pride. Good work, he thought to himself.

I stepped away and moved to a free seat. It appeared that the 85 percent moment was now over. It turned out however that I was wrong. As I was opening my book again I noticed the man turn around looking for something out of his pockets, judging by the fact his hands were now empty I imagine his cigarrete. At this exact same time however I realised that we were coming into the train station and the platform was on the other side of the train. Exitedly I watched the man as he fumbled around and the train itself drew to a stop. Regardless of this latter fact the man made no attempt to turn around. Then suddenly the door opened and the bike fell through the doors and onto a gentleman the other side.

Like a hawk the fumbling man turned around saw the disaster before him and instinctively jumped down to pick up the bike which was now half resting across to body of a man and a woman, both extremely suprised to have been suddenly attacked by a mountain bike. The man grasped hold of the bike and without uttering a word or making a sound he pushed past a couple of people and disappeared off to enjoy the rest of his night.