Fine line black and grey tattoo of a bicycle on the upper arm of a woman wearing a navy vest top and brown leather strap.

Bicycle tattoo on the upper arm

Fine line · Upper arm · Black and grey · Photo

A small tattoo of a bicycle sits on the upper arm, drawn in fine, slightly sketchy black linework with light grey shading in the wheels and frame. The image is cropped below the neck and above the waist, with a navy vest top and a brown leather strap in view. The plain, softly blurred background keeps the focus on the tattoo.

Fine line Upper arm Bicycle Wheel

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The customs officer at Saint-Vaast kept the bicycle in his hut for three winters because nobody came to claim it. It leaned against the stove with its front wheel turned toward the door, as though it meant to leave the moment anyone opened it, and the schoolchildren pressed their noses to the window to see whether it would move on its own.

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Old Pierre Lebrun, who had run the crossing since before the bridge was mended, said the bicycle belonged to a widow from the valley town of Mauvoisin. She had pedalled it over the high road in the autumn of the flood, carrying a tin of papers, a loaf of rye and a jar of her late husband's honey. At the barrier the officer turned the tin upside down and asked what else she carried. She said nothing else, only the frame and the two wheels, and the hope that they would still turn on the far side.

He could find no line in the regulations for a woman's hope, so he stamped her papers and let her go. She walked the bicycle up the hill in the rain, and by spring the village had heard she had opened a stall selling honey in the square at Mauvoisin, though nobody on either side ever saw her ride it again. The bicycle stayed where she left it.

Each market day since, the children have wheeled it from one side of the barrier to the other, and each time the officer waves it through without a stamp. The front wheel still points toward the door, and when the wind comes down off the pass it turns a little on its own, as if the road were still open and somebody were still waiting at the other end.