He said:-- "That's a good-looking machine of yours.

How does it run ?" "Oh, like most of them!" I answered; "easily enough in the morning; goes a little stiffly after lunch." He caught hold of it by the front wheel and the fork and shook it violently.
I said: "Don't do that; you'll hurt it." I did not see why he should shake it; it had not done anything to him.
Besides, if it wanted shaking, I was the proper person to shake it.

I felt much as I should had he started whacking my dog.
He said: "This front wheel wobbles." I said: "It doesn't if you don't wobble it." It didn't wobble, as a matter of fact--nothing worth calling a wobble.
He said: "This is dangerous; have you got a screw-hammer ?" I ought to have been firm, but I thought that perhaps he really did know something about the business.

I went to the tool shed to see what I could find.

When I came back he was sitting on the ground with the front wheel between his legs.