“We ought to get going,” Michael said.

Derek got up and wiped his hands on a blue shop rag.

He looked at the fresh white scrape on the bike frame and dropped his wrench on the concrete path.

Michael picked up the yellow bike by the middle of the frame.

He carried it out to the parking lot and put it in the trunk of his sedan.

The bent training wheel scraped loudly against the trunk lid as he forced it closed.