I was eighty-five, a retired taekwondo coach, when someone made off with my bicycle. Imagine my surprise when, just a couple of days later, I spotted it for sale on the internet! The cheek of itmy own trusty cycle being offered up as if it belonged to someone else.
At my age, I thought Id seen it all, but life still had a few surprises left for me. That old bicycle had been my faithful companion for many years, accompanying me on countless rides around the neighbourhood. So, I did what any sensible personor any retired taekwondo coach, at leastwould do: I arranged to meet the seller, pretending I wanted to buy it.
The day arrived. I waited in the park, leaning on a walking stick (purely for effect), glasses perched on my nose, trying my best to look the part of a frail old lady. After a few minutes, along came a young fellow, confidently wheeling MY bicycle.
Good afternoon, madam. Are you the one interested in buying the bike? he asked with a broad grin.
Thats right, lad; let me have a look at it, I replied, mustering my best innocent-old-lady voice.
He wheeled the bike over, still smiling. The moment he was close enough, SNAP! With a movement the girls Id coached years ago would have instantly recognised, I grabbed hold of the handlebars.
Oi! What are you doing? he shouted, tugging at the handlebars, trying to wrest my bike back from me.
Bless him, he gave it a good gobut forty years of taekwondo coaching isnt something you just forget. He might as well have tried to move a brick wall. He gaped at me, eyes wide, unable to shift me a single inch, while this supposed poor old dear held tight to her bicycle as if it were made of steel.
Whats the matter, young man? Not as strong as you thought you were? I smiled.
Then, just like Id always done when catching pupils misbehaving, I reached out and grabbed him by the ear!
Ow, owlet go, madam! he squawked as I marched him along by the ear, exactly as I used to lead rowdy children off to see the headteacher all those years ago.
This bicycle belongs to ME, my boy. Did you really think at eighty-five Id just let you get away with it? Ive got more black belts hanging in my wardrobe than you have excuses!
By now, a small crowd had gatheredsome filming, some laughing outright. The boy, face red as a beetroot and clutching his flaming ear, stuttered apologies.
Im really sorry! I didnt know it was yours! I thought it had been abandoned!
Oh, did you now? And what about the lock, did that magically undo itself? I finally let go of his ear. Heres a little free lesson for you: never underestimate a grannyespecially not one whos a retired taekwondo coach.
The lad shot off at such a pace he nearly tripped over his own feet. I got back onto my reclaimed bicycle, waved to the people who were clapping and cheering, and rode home with a sense of triumph.
Later that evening, my granddaughter showed me a video onlinethousands of people had already watched it. Gran goes viral at eighty-five! the title proclaimed.
And so I ask you, what would you have done in my shoes? Called the police, or used the taekwondo coach approach?
