A kindness from a world away
This is a story about a bicycle, but it is also about a debt between a father and a son, and how a small boy’s moment of kindness was repaid many times over.
In the summer of 1939, the looming troubles in Europe meant little to my father, Douglas Rideout. He was more concerned with going to the local summer fair and all the delights to be had. Most of all he wanted to try his hand at the penny pitch game where metal rings were tossed over coloured disks on a raised wooden surface. It was very difficult but if luck smiled you could win up to 25 cents. Douglas was determined to win and practiced right up to when the family got in the Model T and headed for the fair.
Somehow Douglas managed to talk my grandfather William Rideout into loaning him a penny. Then he stood a long time watching other players fail. He knew there would be only one chance to win. Finally, he began to toss his rings with great care. All the practice paid off because somehow, he won $5.00, an unbelievable sum. The people working the game finally told him to stop or he’d bankrupt them! When he showed his father, William couldn’t believe his eyes. Douglas paid back the penny he had borrowed, and his father told him he was proud his son understood a debt had to be paid. But this lesson was far from over.
Summer ended and the entire world went to war. Grandfather had been too young for the Great War and would not miss this fight. He joined the infantry, trained all winter in Quebec, and come spring, was scheduled to embark for England. He was granted a leave to get his affairs in order and returned home in the spring for three weeks. He cut the winter’s wood, planted all the fields as well as a huge garden. So much needed to be done, and the whole time the reality of war hung in the house.
Finally, departure day arrived and in a uniform ironed poker-straight, he said his goodbyes and with Douglas holding his hand, walked towards town. As they walked, he told Douglas he wished he’d brought money to buy lunch on the train. Douglas said, “wait a minute Daddy”, ran back to the farmhouse, got his $5.00 and then ran back to the soldier waiting by the gate. Grandfather took the offering and said “Al lright, but I will pay my debt to you.” Then he shouldered his pack and walked through the ankle high oats and was gone. For five years. Gone…
On the way to Europe, William’s troop ship was damaged by a torpedo from a German U-Boat. Somehow it stayed afloat, although other ships all around weren’t so lucky. He was stationed in Scotland and like thousands of other Canadian soldiers, he trained hard waiting for a chance to get into the fight. He missed going on the Dieppe raid, and when the troop ships headed to Sicily, his unit remained in England. Finally in 1944 the invasion of Europe began and by August his unit was in combat.
Grandfather had told Grandmother to set aside a quarter from each pay he sent home, to repay his son’s kind loan. Neither of them had thought the months would become years and Grandmother just kept setting a quarter away. By 1944, the loan had been repaid several times over, so in a crumpled letter Grandfather asked her to surprise Douglas with the windfall.
A folding bicycle as used by the British 1st Airborne Division, 29 August 1942. From The British Army in the United Kingdom 1939-45. Photo credit: Imperial War Museum
Needless to say, he was shocked at his newfound wealth! Would he buy ice skates or a baseball mitt? No, he knew exactly what to do with it. His older brother Archie had a bicycle and Douglas wanted a bicycle, too. So, like other shoppers all across the great Dominion of Canada, he opened the Eaton’s catalogue, made his selection, and sent a money order.
Anxious weeks dragged by with Douglas daily asking if the mail had come. Finally, in late October, the mail man trotted his wagon into the farmyard and unloaded a flat wooden crate. Douglas signed his name and proudly carried it into the hay barn. The packing was taken apart and the assembly began.
It was a group effort with all his siblings assisting. Archie and Bill helped while little brother Al tried to help, like all little brothers will, and Alice, Augusta and Elizabeth urged the boys on. The wheels with Clincher rubber tires went on then the racing handle bars, and chain were attached.
Suddenly, disaster struck! The shiny new CCM bicycle had been shipped without a seat. The siblings searched all the packaging over and over. The children fanned out and combed the yard, the rutted road, even the ditches along the road. Archie volunteered to head for town immediately. He would ask the postmaster, the train station keeper and everyone he meet if they had found a bicycle seat. It had to be somewhere. It had to be.
That seat never was found, and I suspect it was never shipped. Douglas had no money left to buy a seat and worse still, snow came early that harsh winter of ’44. He and Archie hung their bicycles up on ropes in the granary and waited for spring.
Unknown to everyone, Grandmother had immediately posted a letter to her husband about the misfortune. A world away, his unit fought its way across France then into Holland, facing a far from beaten foe—and yet his son’s troubles were on his mind. What could he do?
In early 1945, a battered parcel from Europe arrived addressed to Douglas Rideout, printed in Grandfather’s rough handwriting. Father opened the attached letter. It said the package contained the last of the debt and it was now paid back in full. The letter added, “Watch for me son, this fight is almost over and then I’m coming home and want to see this fancy speeder of yours.”
Douglas opened the parcel, pulled off the brown paper and inside was… a bicycle seat! Not just any seat but a spring coil butter-soft leather army issue saddle. On the back was a shiny brass badge that said Canada, with a red maple leaf.
I can only imagine how much this meant to my father. He has never really said, but he has kept that bicycle all these years, and despite decades of wear it still shines bright in his eyes.
Grandfather survived the war, spending his remaining years on the same land I walk. My Grandfather’s helping his son play a country picnic game, that same small boy’s offer to pay for his Daddy’s lunch on the way to war, the army wages squaring a loan and the gift of a bicycle saddle each a small simple kindness. All woven together they are the warm mantle of family and love that is part of life in the country I am blessed to live in.
Pedalling to victory
The bicycle has worn army green practically since its first development, and with good reason. Swift and silent, using no petrol, and never needing the attention of a horse or mule, the humble two-wheeler took part in countless conflicts. Used for troop movement, it could outpace the toughest marchers, allow silent scouting and moving dispatches between units when wireless communications failed.
A bicycle could handle 100 pounds of gear plus rider and do it regardless of road conditions—or lack of. Even paratroopers were issued collapsible bicycles that once assembled, moved units quietly towards their objectives.
Canada’s own famous CCM company produced thousands for the war effort and the Rambler model—a single speed coaster with reverse pedal brakes—was well like by Allied forces around the world as a reliable two-wheeled steed.