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Matching bicycle tattoos on two forearms
Forearm · Black and grey · Photo
Two forearms rest side by side on a burlap surface, each carrying an identical solid black bicycle silhouette. The wheels are formed from open heart shapes, and the frame and handlebars are drawn in smooth, bold black lines. The ink is uniform and sharp against the skin, with a plain, neutral background.
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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction
The rain has found the gap in your awning again, and it drips onto the tin tray where you keep the spare inner tubes. Saturday at the market means puddles between the cobbles and stallholders shouting about cabbages nobody wants. Dilys comes splashing up the aisle with a bike under each arm, both chains rattling, and sets them down against your trestle without asking.
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"Same job for both," she says. "Trued wheels, new chains, and don't make them too neat or Mags will complain." You kneel on a folded feed sack and work the back wheel of the first bike by eye, tightening one spoke and easing its neighbour, the way your father taught you when you were small enough to hold the frame steady. The rain comes in sideways. You do both bikes at once, because half a job in weather like this is no job at all.
It takes an hour. When you spin the last wheel, the dark loops of the spokes blur into a shape you have seen a hundred times on the chalkboard by the gate, and you realise the two of them have ridden the same route every Saturday for years, one up from the hill, one along the canal, meeting here at the bottom of the market. Dilys pays you in damp coins and a paper bag of ginger biscuits. She swings a leg over her saddle, looks at the other bike leaning beside yours, and laughs.
"Wheels going round the same way," she says, and pushes off into the grey. You watch the pair of them roll down the cobbles until the crowd closes over them, and all that is left is the smell of ginger on your fingers and the tin tray slowly filling with water.
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