Panting, Jason jammed the handlebrakes on his bicycle. Sadly, this merely caused the bike to speed even faster down the colossal hill.
“C’mon, c’mon, you piece of junk,” Jason muttered through clenched teeth. He kicked at the wheels which promptly flew off, along with several other essential bike parts, sending him careening into a pile of dirt.
Grumbling angrily, Jason surveyed the scene. He picked up a rusty mirror, a greasy chain and futilely attempted to stick them together. “If only I had a new Fuji Fazer…” he thought to himself.
Several days later, Jason made his way into town where he noticed a crowd of people gathered around the Fuji shop. As he strolled over to the mob, snatches of conversation caught his ear.
“Best bike every made!”
“Mommy, Mommy, I want one. I want the pink one!”
Jason wormed his way through the crowd. When he finally emerged at the front, his jaw dropped and his eyes popped. There it was. The bike of his dreams. The Fazer.
“Awwww, but Dad,” Jason whined later at dinner after his father shook his head. Jason turned pleading eyes towards his mother, “I’m sorry dear but a new bike just isn’t in the cards. Maybe for Christmas if you keep up your good grades.”
“Didja hear?” Jason’s best friend, Tommy, whispered in his ear.
It turned out that there was to be a race on prototype Fazers. The winner would get to keep theirs. Jason could hardly wait. He resolved to go running every day after school until he was positive he could win the race.
When the day finally arrived, Jason was in shape and ready to go. As he mounted his bike, the boy next to him sneered, and said, “I think you’ve got the wrong place, kid. The baby playground is over there.” It was evil Roger McEvil.
As the countdown counted down… 3, Roger picked up a stick…2, and jammed it into Jason’s spokes…1! “Ha, ha, smell you later!” As Jason frantically struggled to get the stick out of his wheel, the other riders raced away.
At last he tore out of the starting block making record time and even passing the first of the boys in last place. Out of the ten racers, Jason was now number nine. Roger was number one.
Jason steadily fought his way back. Eight…seven…six…five…four…three…two. Jason and Roger were neck and neck, straining at their bike pedals.
His eyes closed with the effort, sweat leaving him soggy and his legs a blur, Jason still couldn’t outrace Roger and the finish line was growing ever closer. However, it just so happened that Roger had decided to use his own bike, not a Fazer. He only wanted to win the race so he could sell the bike on eBay. But everyone knows that there is no bike more reliable than a Fazer.
So when the road became bumpy, Roger’s bike vibrated wildly, causing him to lose control of the steering and go flying off into the bushes. Jason’s Fazer quietly absorbed the shock and proceeded to break the ribbon signifying the end of the race.
He had won! Well, he and his Fazer had won. Together.
