The Mouse and the Motorcycle by Beverly Cleary

By Beverly Cleary

''Boy!'' stated Ralph to himself, his whiskers quivering with pleasure. ''Boy, oh boy!'' Feeling that this was once an immense second in his lifestyles, he took carry of the handgrips. They felt stable and reliable underneath his paws. certain, this motorbike used to be a very good computing device all right.

Ralph the mouse ventures out from at the back of the piney knothole within the wall of his hotel-room domestic, scrambles up the phone cord to the tip desk, and climbs aboard the toy bike left there via a tender visitor. His thrill experience doesn't final lengthy. The ringing mobile startles Ralph, and he and the bike take a bad fall - correct to the ground of a steel wastebasket. fortunately, Keith, the landlord of the bike, returns to discover his toy. Keith rescues Ralph and teaches him how you can journey the motorbike. therefore starts off a good friendship and lots of striking adventures. as soon as a mouse can trip a motorcyle ... virtually something can happen!

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Example text

Nobody stole your motorcycle,” answered the boy’s mother from 216. “It’s around someplace. You just mislaid it. You can find it in the morning. ” “No, I didn’t mislay it,” insisted the boy. ” “You’ll find it someplace,” said his mother, not much interested. Boys were always losing things. While Ralph cowered behind the apple core, Keith opened the drawer of the bedside table and slammed it shut. Then he got down on his hands and knees and looked under the bed and the table. Ralph wrapped his tail more tightly around his body.

No, I didn’t mislay it,” insisted the boy. ” “You’ll find it someplace,” said his mother, not much interested. Boys were always losing things. While Ralph cowered behind the apple core, Keith opened the drawer of the bedside table and slammed it shut. Then he got down on his hands and knees and looked under the bed and the table. Ralph wrapped his tail more tightly around his body. Here it comes, he thought. 31 The boy’s face appeared in the opening at the top of the wastebasket. Ralph’s heart raced like a motor.

Thanks for reminding me,” said Ralph, causing the motorcycle to stop. He started it again and steered with one paw while he reached back with the other, caught up his tail, and held the tip safely against the handlebar. It was a glorious sensation, speeding around on the carpet, freely and noisily and, most of all, fast. Ralph discovered that if he 42 made the noise fast, the motorcycle speeded up. If he slowed the sound, the motorcycle slowed down. When he ran out of breath, the momentum of the motorcycle carried him on until he could take another breath.

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