One of the service stations on the Old Belfast Road had closed down. Someone had invited me to look around the grounds so I cycled over. They were huge, far bigger than what was needed. They included a three storey house with an overgrown garden.
There was a large shed round the back. I could hear a circular saw buzzing from inside. Then I spotted two beautiful black bicycles leaning against a fence. They were brand new. They were modern, but created in an old fashioned style.
I compared them to my old worn bike and became determined to take one. It had a high seat and I felt uncomfortable at first but it was a lovely bike to cycle. It had three gears and a quality metal chain guard. I felt a bit guilty about taking a brand new bike as I'm not a thief outside of dreams. At least I had left my old bike behind.
A young blond haired man come out of the shed, looked quizzically at where the bike had been and then went back in the shed. I briefly considered returning the vehicle but then decided to cycle off.
Bangor turned into a strange suburb of Belfast, full of high rise flats. I cycled up towards the Holywood hills via a huge dual carriageway. One of the Harland and Wolff cranes had relocated up in the foothills, but it was maybe ten or twenty times bigger.
Then I woke up, which was a pity, because that crane was an awesome sight.
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