Some say this sign was put up in the community after Soup Bone's unfortunate accident.

Now the old man is not pleased, and that's putting it mildly. Soup Bone, the local mason/carpenter/television repairman recently lost a perfectly functional, if not aesthetically sound bicycle to the giant wheels of a truck in his St Elizabeth hometown of Black River.

"Mi nuh know yuh know boss, but smaddy haffi go talk to mi bout mi bicycle!" he yelled, still openly miffed.

"Ah tutty-five year now mi got di same bicycle, so smaddy haffi go talk to mi bout it!" he said. I should point out that when I met him outside his single bedroom home, it had already been more than a month since the incident that saw him losing his sole mode of transportation.

It all happened early one muggy Sunday morning. Soup Bone, a 72-year-old lanky, short-tempered man, opted not to attend weekly service at the nearby Baptist church of which he has been a member since 1975.

"Mi did have something fi do, man. Mi couldn't mek it," he said, seeming more than a tad cagey.

Soup Bone completed his morning chores, had a bath, got his bicycle and headed out. As soon as he got to the roadway, though, Soup Bone realised he had left his cellphone inside the house. He hopped off the bicycle, parked it on the roadside and ran back inside.

"When mi inside and pick up di phone, mi just hear boi! When mi run out, mi see mi bicycle tun ova, ben up and one truck gone down di road," he recalled.

Now he hasn't been able to figure out who was driving the truck, but Soup Bone is intent on getting restitution for the ill that has befallen him.

"Somebody haffi go deal wid mi bicycle!" he shouted.

Now the story doesn't quite end there. You see, rumour has it that the reason Soup Bone didn't attend church that fateful Sunday, and consequently lost his bicycle, was that he was on his way to visit his new lady friend who recently moved to the community and now lives about a mile from his home.

To hear the people of the area tell it, Soup Bone has been acting differently ever since the young belle moved to Black River from her birthplace Lucea, Hanover. A local shopkeeper couldn't help but snicker at the whole affair.

"Tee hee! Mek Soup Bone gwaan. Is dat fi happen to him. Everybody know seh is di young girl him did ah go check. From dat young miss move come ah St Bess, dat old man tun idiot!" she said, her belly jiggling with her laugh.

The view from Soup Bone's humble home.

Another man I met while in the community was Lakeland, a dodgy looking chap with beady eyes and a raspy voice who claimed to be close friends with Soup Bone. He told me that the reason his friend is so upset about losing the bicycle has little to do with the actual loss of the bicycle and more to do with lost love.

"After him bicycle mash up, him drag it behind him and still go check di woman. When him reach, Soup Bone find man inna di woman yard! Yes sah! One piece ah prekeh! Di man is none other dan Soup Bone owna prentice. When Soup Bone see him, him run him down go clear outa main road," said Lakeland, laughing.

As soon as I received this new information, I decided to return to Soup Bone and ask him about it. It was a decision I would soon regret.

"Lef mi place! Lef mi place!" the old man yelled, waving a bicycle chain in his hand. "Don't listen to wah igle people have fi seh! Igle jackass follow cane trash go ah pound!" he yelled as I made a fast exit from the man's premises and into the street where it was safe.

robert.lalah@gleanerjm.com