Almost two weeks after the accident,

there was a knock at his door.

The driver had been trying to find Weng’s address all morning.

A few of the neighbors came out to watch as an electric tricycle

was lowered off a flatbed truck.

The driver asked Weng to sign some papers.

“It is our best model, Mr. Fun—even before Mr. Yi

called in the customization.”

“But where is Golden Helper II?” Weng asked.

“Where is my old tricycle?”

“What do you want something old for?” the driver said, lighting
a Baisha cigarette. “This has a lightweight high-side bed,
built-in electric lights, heated seat, heated handgrips, air-horn,
radio, CD player, DVD player, low-tire-pressure warning
system, GPS, and custom Chanel handlebar gloves.”

A sticker on the frame in writing Weng couldn’t read said:

                             Racing Monument Paris

                             Tour de Farce