A Boy, a Bicycle, and his Little Pony
-Excuse me Mister?
-D’ya need a hand?
-Could ya get me bike outta there? I’m tryin’ to get this fella out
So I did. With a gimpy arm and a dog on a leash, both barking at and afraid of the pony, I waded into the long grass and fished out his bike. Then I left him to sort out the logistics using just one rope.
A sunny evening in Dublin West. This never happened in America.