The Adventures of Campy Girlymann

Campy took his time with the De Rosa, Michel had already fixed the other bike and had left to look at the wash machine as Campy finished wiping the De Rosa's tires. The men playing cards chided him for being so slow and that only someone like Michel would hire such an oaf. But Campy ignored the louts and instead watched how delivery vans entered the estate. There were three small screens near where the men sat and when a horned honked or the gate's buzzer sounded, the men would look at the screens and either stand to press a button on a panel nearby, or inquire their name and business through the intercom. No matter what, Campy observed, at least one of the men were near the screens and the panel.

It didn't take long to finish the carbon bike. There were no intricate welds or chrome joints to carefully clean, no decals or fine detail to gently wipe. He had finished just as Michel returned with the old man.

"The pump needs a new belt is all. If you want, on my next time here, I will bring one. "

"Most grateful, Michel. The Contesta is always accusing them of stealing, she would blame them and take the repair bill from their meager wages."

"How are they doing the wash now?"

The old man shrugged, "How else? By hand of course.  They go to the river and wash there, it is back breaking for them." 

"I will be out Monday, tell them it will be repaired by noon on Monday."

"They will be so thankful. I think there is enough towels and linen in this place to sustain the Contesta for the weekend." The old man said with a wink.

Michel placed his hand on Campy's shoulder, "Place the tools back, we'll return Monday."

Campy touched his cap and began to break down the bike stand. He took another look at the wiring of the screens and the panel on his trips back and forth from the shed and the tricycles. The men paid him no heed at all.

To be continued....