Reading

Tristan Bancks: Hi, I'm Tristan Bancks and I'm going to read the first couple of pages of my book Mac Slater, Coolhunter 1: The Rules of Cool. So here it goes. The first chapter's called ‘Born to fly’.

It was our greatest invention ever: a flying bike. Paul and I had been obsessed with building a flying machine for years. The thing I loved and hated about being that guy's best friend was that whenever we dreamed up something like this, I was always the guinea pig.

'I'm the brains of us, Mac,' he'd always tell me. 'You're the guts.'

Which was his way of saying that he knew the thing was going to crash. So, there I was on the edge of Kings Cliff. Helmet on, clutching the grips on a low-rider bike with homemade solar engine. Wind was blowing in over the rock face from the ocean, blasting us. Clouds, the enemy of solar power, were gathered all around. The footpath followed the line of the cliff, soaring downhill to the park in front of the beach where the jump was. The bike was made totally from stuff we'd found at the tip. Seven bikes, a washing machine, two whipper-snippers and a fold-out bed had given their lives to the development of this baby.

Paul designed it and we built it together. A whole year it took, mainly because of the motor. I just hoped it wasn't going to be another shocker like our Backpack Solo Helicopter with ceiling fan blades. My leg had only just healed.

Paul hit 'record' on the skanky old video camera we'd taped to the front of the bike.

'Flick it,' he said.

I flipped the switch and the solar engine gasped into life. Paul did final checks on the hundred or so strings that led from the bike to the paragliding wing at the back. See, the wing was shaped like a narrow parachute, but while a parachute was made for dropping from the sky, a wing was made for soaring through it. We'd borrowed it from my dad's shed. He was 'away' for a little while. But we'll get to that.

So the deal was I'd charge downhill to the park, top speed, the wing would fill with air, rise above me, I'd hit the wooden jump, 'specially built for the event, launch into the air and fly. No one had ever done it. Not 'round here anyway.