Two-Wheeled Joy

The Beauneville Bicycle Company occupies a small building on the corner of Railroad Avenue and Tenth Street, about two blocks from the Red Trolley Diner. Established in 1893 at the height of America's Bicycling Craze, the company first planned to build a bicycle railway connecting Beauneville and Stapleton modeled on the Mount Holly and Smithville Bicycle Railway.

Company directors reconsidered the business plan in 1894 when the Beauneville Electric Railway began operations, as market research suggested that prospective customers preferred sitting over pedaling. Turning to the street bicycle market, the company rolled out its aptly named Goliath high-wheeled bicycle in 1895. Sadly, the Goliath was obsolete from its inception and sales were limited to a batch of ten purchased by the Stapleton Police Department. There is no truth to the rumor that the Stapleton Police Department purchased the Goliaths solely because Mayor Henry Gittings also happened to sit on the Board of Beauneville Bicycle Company. That is sheer coincidence.

In the wake of the failed Goliath, Beauneville Bicycle Company turned to the manufacture of standard "safety" bicycles, from which they have not deviated since. Beauneville Bicycle Company products are highly prized by Beauneville denizens, many of whom are avid bicyclists; the environs of Beauneville being well-suited to bicycling as the roads are wide, well-paved, thinly trafficked and generally free of hills.

Although bicycles are handed down from generation to generation -- there are seven or eight stored in the Smith's carriage house -- every Beauneville youngster longs for his very own shiny Cruiser or Cruisette. After school, one sometimes sees children gathered outside the showroom on Railroad Avenue, noses pressed to the glass. On Christmas morning, in many homes, a child peeps around the corner of the living room to see a Cruiser standing in its fendered glory, a moment captured in the Company's famous advertising tagline: "Gee, Dad! It's a Beauneville!"

Beauneville Bicycle Company's products are well suited to local needs. The Beauneville Boxster comes in quite handy when toting a load of apples:

Today, Roderick pedals the bike paths around Old Ivy College with Molly, Megan and Natasha on his classic Beauneville Town and Country:

Molly has the version with a little basket in front:

Buxom and bubbly Megan is a more casual bicyclist because, as she takes pains to point out, she jiggles. Unsurprisingly, her bicycle is red, and is designed to avoid contact with her ladyparts:

Natasha, of course, eschews the local product; she prefers, instead, an imported Schindelhauer "Ludwig XVIII", fully equipped with Pinion P1.18 gearbox, CNC-machined disc brakes, Brooks saddle and Gates’ Center- Track System. "It only cost Daddy 5,000 Euros" she likes to say, dismissing out of hand any questions about the euro-dollar exchange rate.

"Why is your bicycle called "Ludwig XVIII?" asks Molly.

"I think he's the King of Germany," says Natasha.

"Germany is a Federal Republic, and hasn't had a monarch since 1918" says Roderick. "Also, there never were Kings of what we now call Germany, only of its constituent parts Prussia, Saxony, Wurttemburg and Bavaria; the monarch of Germany was an Emperor and not a King. There were King Ludwigs of Bavaria, but only three of them and not eighteen. The last of them, King Ludwig III, ruled until November, 1918, when the monarchy ended under politically ambiguous circumstances and without an actual abdication."

"Look at me, I'm jiggling!" says Megan.

Roderick observes that Megan does indeed jiggle when she bicycles, although to be perfectly honest Megan jiggles when she does just about anything.

This year at Old Ivy Roderick plans to attend Sunday services at St. Cecilia chapel, but he will not sing in the Bach Chorale; it's a time management thing. Another reason: word has got out that men who sing in the Chorale can pretty much have their way with the sopranos, so there is no shortage of prospective baritones this year.

Emily Scharf was disappointed and tried to persuade him to sign up again. Actually, she groveled at his feet and begged him to accept sexual favors in return for contributing his voice; but when Roderick's mind is made up...

Autumnal Equinox

Today is the Autumnal Equinox, the first day of Autumn. The Smileys pack the bubble van and prepare for the return to Smileyville.

But first, Sunday dinner at the Smiths. Everyone's coming, including Grandma and Grandpa. Roderick, Molly and Megan drove down from Old Ivy this morning; Mary Bloom caught the train from Lake City last night so she can attend together with Mr. and Mrs. Bloom, Margaret, Catherine and Mr. Fuzzums.

Miss Kitty declines to attend.

Mr. and Mrs. Smith serve dinner promptly at one. On the menu: roast pork, apple sauce (made from freshly harvested Beuneville Beauties); and little green things.

Grandma wants to know what everyone did for the summer.

"Well," says Mr. Smiley. "We took a boat to Europe and visited Brest, Mont. St. Michel, Giverny, Versailles and Paris. Then we took a train to Brussels and Amsterdam, after which we visited Cologne, Dusseldorf, Hamburg, Berlin, Leipzig, Prague, Vienna, Venice, Milan, Florence, Pisa, Rome, Naples, the Amalfi Coast and Capri. Then over to Marseilles, Nice, Cannes, a brief side trip to Barcelona, the Basque country, Gascony, then up the Loire and back to Paris, where we transferred to the Brest train and the steamer back to America."

"Wow!" says Megan. "Quite an itinerary!. What did you think of Europe?"

Mr. Smiley, pauses to ponder, then responds. "It was nice."

"They have very nice cheese in Amsterdam," Clotilde volunteers.

"We saw bubble cars in Milan" adds Mr. Smiley. "A remarkable collection."

"What about you, Molly?" asks Grandma. "What did you do this summer?"

"I learned Charles Ives' Concord Sonata, advanced a degree in karate and posed for the mural Natasha's doing for the Student Union at Old Ivy."

"A mural? That's wonderful! What's it called?"

"Molly Bloom's Moist Pink Vagina."

Mary Bloom, not wishing to be outdone by her older sister, boasts of her summer accomplishments. "I earned $30,000 through prostitution in Lake City this summer. That's all taxable income, of course, so I set up a Subchapter S corporation so I can write off my expenses: the large four-poster bed, velvet handcuffs, the maid's uniform and schoolgirl outfit, large quantities of Listerine and also the occasional abortion should the need arise."

Mr. Bloom leans toward Mr. Smith and whispers proudly: "She's majoring in Business."

Mr. Smith nods. "Clever girl."

"What did you do this summer, Roderick?"

Roderick swallows a bite of roast pork slathered in applesauce, and pushes the little green things to one side of his plate. "Oh, the usual. I worked at the canoe barn, polished the Roadmaster daily and interviewed at Old Ivy for the Jay Gould Society."

Megan is intrigued. "The Jay Gould Society? I interviewed for that, too! What did they ask about in the interview?"

"They just wanted to know why I'm interested in Business."

"They asked me the same thing. What did you tell them?"

"I told them I want to make a lot of money by any means necessary and shelter it all from taxes. How did you answer?"

Megan looks sheepish. "I told them I want do work towards gender equity and equal opportunity for women in business."

Roderick smiles awkwardly. He likes Megan, and thinks she's really creative and stuff, but really, sometimes she is just self-defeating and dumb. "Well," he says, hoping someone will change the subject, "I guess we'll hear from them pretty soon."

Megan spent the summer as one of several hundred unpaid interns at the Lake City Opera.

"That must be hard, being one of so many interns." says Mrs. Smith sympathetically, serving the pie.

"There are advantages," says Megan, spooning some ice cream. "I only had to blow the Maestro once."

Little Alexander, sitting patiently in his oddly-shaped and brightly colored high chair, is bored. "Want cheese!" he screams.

Clotilde indulges him with a nice piece of cheese. But that's to be expected because Smileys, as you know, like to indulge their children.