Adventure Bike Club and the Tire Giant

By Brian Bakos

The huge tire on the freeway outside town is not an advertisement, as people think, but a vessel from another universe on a sinister mission. Can Amanda and her friends make it back out alive? The fate of the world might hinge on the outcome, or at least Melissa's fancy new bike. Book 3 of the "Time Before Color TV" series

• Language: English
• Publisher: Brian Bakos
• Release date: Apr 2, 2013
• ISBN: 9781301969135

Brian Bakos

I like to write and travel. I'm from the Detroit area originally and try to see other places as often as possible. My most recent travels have been to China, Ecuador, and Belize. Am thinking of my next destination. It's wonderful how travel inspires the writing process. Attended Michigan State University and Alma College.Not much more than that. Anything else I have to say comes out in my books. If you really want to know more, please contact me through my website, https://www.theb2.net/. May life bring you many blessings!

Book preview

Prelude: What Happened Before

The First Ring Rainbow gives background information that can help you enjoy this story more. Click to obtain a copy. If you’d rather dive in and read, that’s okay, too.

One: The Adventure Begins

1. Gathering of the Club

I’m feeling pretty good about my bike, until Melissa shows up.

Still riding that old thing, Amanda? she yells.

I flinch and glance up from the tire pump in time to see Melissa blur past. She rides to the corner, spins around, and zips back at hazardous speed.

She barrels up our drive right at me. I’m afraid she’s going to run me over, but she stops a few feet away, hand brakes screeching loud enough to hurt my ears.

Do you like my new English racer? She’s out of breath. A grin splits her glowing face, and her blonde hair is mussed just the right amount to look cool.

Y-yeah, sure.

What else can I say? The thing looks fast even standing still. Its frame is blazing crimson etched with gold highlights. It has skinny tires and a cut-back front fender. The handlebars curl under competition style.

Melissa flicks a little trigger by the right hand brake. It has ever so many speeds, imagine! If you don’t like the one you’re in, choose another.

That’s really, er, nice.

I examine my own bike. It’s all lazy curves, while Melissa’s has decisive sharp angles. My bike has fat balloon tires and a green & white frame with rusty scrapes. It looks about as fast as an old shopping cart. I’ve spent half an hour cleaning and oiling; now everything seems pretty dull.

It’s supposed to be my early birthday present, Melissa says, but I’ll talk Dad into getting me another gift later.

Tommy shows up next riding a sensible Schwinn Hornet like mine, only red and cream colored—with a boy’s frame, of course.

Nice bike, Melissa, he says.

Thank you. My dad bought it for me at Empire Bicycles.

Empire?

Yes, they sell only the better imported models. You know, English, French, that sort of thing. I’m not surprised you haven’t heard of them.

Mmm.

All the riding clubs in England have bikes like this one, Melissa adds.

A violent whoosh! announces Quentin’s arrival. He blows past us, nearly running over my tire pump.

Catch! He tosses a red plastic camera our direction.

Tommy snatches it mid air. Got it!

Yee Haaa! Quentin shoots across the lawn, headed for our big elm. An instant before crashing, he dives onto the grass and rolls.

Ka-Thunk! His bike slams against the tree without him.

That’s dumb! I yell. I told you not to do that!

Quentin stands and brushes at the grass stains on his pants. Sorry, Amanda. When Old Reliable sees that tree, he has to crash into it. Kind of an irresistible attraction.

Your bike’s not going to be ‘reliable’ much longer if you keep doing that.

Melissa rolls her eyes. Quentin is so immature. I can’t imagine why I let him talk me into joining this club.

She smooths her hair and stands theatrically beside her English racer. At least his camera is still in one piece. Take my picture, Tomás, and be sure to include the whole bike.

I don’t know, Tommy says. It’s not my camera.

Go on! What are you waiting for?

Tommy snaps her picture.

Would you care to be in the next one, Amanda? she asks.

I know what she wants. A dramatic shot of herself with me standing alongside, overwhelmed by her amazing bike.

No thanks.

Some other time, then. Get my other profile, Tomás.

She changes her pose, turning her head and gazing off toward a far horizon only she can see.

Tommy snaps another picture.

Quentin picks up his bike and walks it toward us. You can’t tell what brand Old Reliable was originally, as it’s all stripped down now. No fenders, carrier, or chain guard—not even a kick stand. The only add-on is a bike bag hanging from the seat.

Quentin tries to act casual, yet his eyes narrow as he studies Melissa’s new machine. That looks sharp, for a girl’s bike.

Thank you, Melissa says, it’s made for speed, not crashing.

Quentin nods.

Here’s your camera. Tommy hands it over.

Quentin glances at the film counter. He appears a bit ticked that two frames have already been shot without his permission, though he doesn’t complain. If he did, Melissa would ride off, and his latest club would be down to three members.

Ever since we were little, Quentin has wanted to be in charge of something. He founded the Atomic Kids Club, the Space Raiders League, the Anti-Communist Boys. None of these outfits lasted very long. Now he’s hit on the idea of an Adventure Bike Club. This will be really cool for years to come, he says, until we’re old enough to drive cars.

Then he’ll start a hot rod club, no doubt, or be one of those motorcycle club guys.

Is everyone ready? Quentin says.

Yeah!

Quentin draws himself up and raises an index finger. As president of the Adventure Bike Club, I officially announce the beginning of our first ride.

Great! Tommy says. So… where are we going?

Quentin looks around to make sure nobody else is in earshot. He leans in close. You’d have to say he has a good sense of the dramatic. We stand around like a football team in a huddle.

We’re going to the Tire Giant, Quentin whispers.

We all jerk back.

You’re kidding, right? Tommy asks.

Quentin shakes his head. No, I am not. This is supposed to be an adventure club, right? Let’s go have an adventure.

The day is turning creepy, fast.

2. The Tire Giant

This gigantic tire recently appeared along the new freeway outside town. I saw it on a foggy morning earlier this week when we were driving out to visit my Russian grandpa in the hospital. The thing was bigger than a Ferris wheel and very spooky.

What’s that? I asked my dad.

Beats me, Honey. It must be an advertisement for some tire company.

But there was no company name or logo on it. The thing stood there—huge, blank, and ugly. A menacing tread wrapped around it, deep enough for a person to hide in. The middle was dark and swirly. Sparks, or lighting, seemed to be shooting around the tire, though maybe I imagined that part. Maybe the fog played tricks on my vision.

I kept expecting the horrible thing to come rolling after us. I could see it rumbling down the pavement, shock waves booming ahead of it, crushing any cars or people in the way.

How fast is our car, Dad? I asked, trying not to sound scared.

Pretty fast.

Dad stomped the gas pedal, and we shot up over the speed limit. He had this evil, jumped-up look on his face, like some juvenile delinquent hot rodder.

That’s quite enough, Mom said in that stern voice of hers.

We slowed down again, and Dad returned to normal. I watched from the rear window until the Tire Giant vanished into the mist. I felt chilly for a long time afterwards.

* * *

"How are we going