He saw his brand new mountain bike, lying on the side of the driveway. Its
spokes sparkled in the sun. He sneered at it. "I won't be needing that
stupid thing any more!" he thought.

He turned the steering wheel and drove over his bike, buckling and bending
it under the weight of the heavy car.

The main gate went by, tall and black, and the solid gate posts, red brick
and mossy.

Then he saw the police car, and the two uniformed men, waiting beside it.
Another car was there too, with the name of the local newspaper on it. A
man with a camera took several photographs.

Flash! Flash! Flash!

Spike stopped the car.

He started to cry.