Where to sir?

Where to Sir?

Where to sir?

The low spring sun flashed off the roof of the train as it drew into the station. The loud bleeping signaled the doors opening and the commuters washed onto the platform. With a hand on both handlebars and an  “ Excuse me.” Here and there. She forced her self and her folding bicycle through the weaving punters.

A space opened in front of her and she bobsleighed her way into it.
With a practiced skip and a hop, she threw her leg over the bike. Her foot caught the top pedal and as her weight pushed down, the bike surged forward. The pleats of her kilt splayed widely as she swung her leg over the seat. She sat down purposefully with a   straight  and determined back, and with her practically perfect hat on her head, she cycled confidently past the taxi rank. 

Just as she rounded the bend and headed downhill, the front wheel folded itself along the frame and the bike collapsed. She rolled over the bars, flashed her jolly hockey sticks navy blue serge knickers, and landed on her back in an untidy wide-eyed, this can’t be happening heap. Her hat stayed on her head, just as it should.

Ben, at the front of the rank, ran out quickly to help her. He was joined by more ‘Samaritans’ and they quickly got her to her feet. He lifted the bike and checked it over. After realigning the front wheel and making sure it was all locked properly in place, he wheeled it over to the lady who, with an embarrassed smile on her aristocratic face, was making awkward apologies to her helpers.

“ Say I. Urr yie awright hen?” 

“ Yes thank you… I…just took a bit of a tumble. It’s a folding bicycle. I couldn’t have locked it in place properly… Is it damaged? “

“It disnae look as if it is hen, but, say I, you’ll ken better than me.”

She accepted her property and after a swift examination and a smile of thanks to her attendants, she rolled the bike forward and again expertly mounted the machine.  Half way down the hill she raised her right hand to her head, lifted her hat, and gave a practically perfect wave, as she sped off down the hill.

The world went back to order and the door open buzzer on the taxi warned me of  a fare entering the cab. A dark haired guy of around forty, carrying a small case and a smile to match the sunshine, greeted me in a smooth American accent. 

“ Good morning sir, could you take me to Sky at  Watermark House?.. in Kirkton?”

“  Aye, good morning to you too sir.. I certainly can… Is that an American accent I hear?” 

“Yes sir. I’m from San Diego, in sunny California.” 

“ Did you bring the Californian sunshine with you?”

“ Yeah, I sure did.” 

I flicked the meter on and rolled the cab off the rank.

“Aye, it’s a beautiful day, but not a day to be working is it? It's a pity we all have to work.”

“Yes sir, it sure is. We gotta pay the bills. That’s for sure.” 

The guy sat down, and when he was settled, I asked him.

“When you got in the cab you asked me to take you to Kirkton. Suppose I could take you anywhere. Anywhere in space and time you wanted to go. Where would you have asked me to take you?”

His eyes glazed over as he began to think. A second later he sat forward. While staring into my eyes through the rear view mirror, he said.

“ That’s easy. 21st of June 2009. In San Diego bay. Aboard the Maria, a 53ft sport-fishing boat.  My father-in-law Frank was steering and my wife and childhood sweetheart Maria, whom the boat was named for, was sunbathing on the second stage fishing platform. I was aft in the fighting chair. 

My son Mark had just pulled me a coke. I cast in between the four boat lures and set the rod in its holder. After taking the coke, I threw it back. Just as the welcome drink hit the back of my throat, the rear of the boat dipped in the water. The engines whined in complaint as some powerful force was pulling on them. I looked at the rod, it was shivering along its length and was bent nearly to the water. If this was a marlin, it was huge.

Mark, always willing to learn, ran to the fly-bridge to see how his experienced grandfather would handle the boat with a hooked fish trying to pull it to the bottom of the sea.

I flicked the rod’s reel to automatic. This way, if the line went slack, the reel would tighten, if too much force was exerted, the reel would slowly release. 

I felt my wife’s hand along the top of my neck. She kissed my cheek and whispered excitedly into my ear.

‘I saw the shadow as I climbed down James... It’s massive.’

I looked towards the sea. A long sharp pointed sword was slowly piercing up through the foaming water. The noise of the screaming reel burned in my ears. The frothing and rolling surface of the sea was impossibly rising and shaping itself. As the water fell away, it revealed a shining white torso with huge flapping fins. The fish continued  to rise slowly from the surface. A wide black tail cleared the water.The sun was blotted out as the huge black marlin towered above us. When it reached the apex. It lowered it's head. The long sharp sword of the beast moved slowly and threateningly from side to side. I followed from the point of the sword up to a black, round and hypnotic eye. Strangely this sentient eye held me. The world stopped. I could sense cold dark places fathoms below the surface. A dark calm came over me and all was silent. I spun in and around. Visions of waves and rolling seas. Of chasing darting, flashing, silver underbelly's. Of bursting through a clear blue light and the exhilarating feeling of weightlessness as I fell back to the water. Then a sharp pain and something pulling me forward. 
All the old drunken marina bar tales filled my head. Stories of huge evil black marlin, rising out of the water to fall down on boats and smash them to matchwood.  Urban myths telling of these huge fish, diving into the sides of boats and skewering unfortunate men through the chest with their swords. Some even pulling men, chairs and all, down to their deaths under the deep, dark sea.  I sat transfixed. The marlin flicked his tail and gallons of cold seawater slapped into me and my wife, bringing us both to our senses. 

The boat’s engines roared and the stern lifted. Maria, pointing to the reel, shouted.

‘Grab the handles. We’ll do this together.’

I flicked the switch to give us manual control, and with Maria’s arms around me and with her shouting advice into my ear, we fought the beast.

The marlin battled long and hard. Old Frank steered the boat expertly and after three hours hard slogging, we landed the fish. We headed for port exhilarated and desperate to show off our massive prize at the Sun Harbor Marina.

The fish was 22ft long and weighed in at an amazing 1,765lbs. It was the biggest black marlin ever caught in the bay. The Maria was awarded the shield for best catch and we didn’t have to buy drinks for weeks. 

Yes sir that was one of the greatest days of my life. Sadly, a year later, my father-in-law passed away with cancer. Two years later my wife and son were killed in a road traffic accident on the freeway just outside San Diego.”

He sighed and sat back in the seat. Soon we reached Watermark. I stopped the cab and the guy opened the door and got out. He came to the passenger window. After paying his fare, he said.

“ You know sir, I really wish you could have taken me there.”

I looked him in the eye and said….

“ Sir.. I just have.”