Person in a wide-brim hat sitting by a pool with a fine line black bicycle tattoo on the calf and a fine line tower and stars tattoo on the upper arm.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Bicycle on calf and tower on upper arm

Fine line · Upper arm · Black and grey · Photo

A person in a wide-brim hat sits at the edge of a pool, holding a drink can, with the arm and leg tattoos clearly visible. A black fine line bicycle with spoked wheels sits on the calf, and a line drawn tower with small stars and a leaf sits on the upper arm. The ink is solid black on a sunlit, slightly cropped composition with a blue pool in the background.

Fine line Upper arm Calf Bicycle Tower Star Leaf Hat

Find an artist for this

Take it to an artist as a reference. A good artist will make it yours rather than copy someone else's tattoo.

A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The bicycle had been Mo's grandfather's, and by the third week of August its chain had rusted to the colour of the bridge it was meant to cross. Nobody in Hollin Cross had ridden it since the telephone exchange closed, but Dilys Tate had started leaving her shopping in the basket on Thursdays, and Mo, who was nineteen and had nothing better to do with a summer, had started collecting it.

Keep reading

The tower stood on Callow Hill, a steel lattice that the council wanted gone and the stargazers wanted kept. Mo knew the path because a boy at the ironmongers had said it was the only place you could see the whole valley lit up at once, and that the night watchman, an old man called Ivor Penhale, still climbed it every evening to check the bulbs on the red warning lamps.

Ivor did not want company. He did want the paraffin, which Mo carried up in a dented can strapped to the crossbar, and he did want someone to hold the torch while he counted stars through a brass telescope with a cracked lens. "Leaf," he said, pointing at a drift of dry sycamore caught on the lowest girder. "That's the one you're after. Autumn's coming early." Mo laughed, and Ivor didn't.

When Mo finally rode back down in the dark with the chain ticking like a clock, the valley was a spill of orange, and the tower's lamps blinked above it, steady and unbothered. Dilys was waiting at the gate with the kettle on. She didn't ask where Mo had been. She only said the bicycle looked better for it, and that was enough.