The Mouse and the Motorcycle
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In this imaginative adventure from Newbery Medal–winning author Beverly Cleary, a young mouse named Ralph is thrown into a world of excitement when a boy and his shiny toy motorcycle check in to the Mountain View Inn. This timeless classic now features a foreword written by New York Times bestselling author Kate DiCamillo, as well as an exclusive interview with Beverly Cleary herself.
When the ever-curious Ralph spots Keith's red toy motorcycle, he vows to ride it. So when Keith leaves the bike unattended in his room one day, Ralph makes his move. But with all this freedom (and speed!) come a lot of obstacles. Whether dodging a rowdy terrier or keeping his nosy cousins away from his new wheels, Ralph has a lot going on! And with a pal like Keith always looking out for him, there's nothing this little mouse can't handle.
Correlates to the Common Core State Standards in English Language Arts
“I’ll give to you the keys to my heart,” the maid sang to herself before the mirror, now pulling her hair behind her ears, now piling it on top of her head, oblivious to the desperate struggle under the bed. Once, Ralph’s paw slipped from the exhaust pipe and he thought he was a goner until he caught the rear wheel in time to save himself. Slowly he moved forward until his entire tail was free. Things were easier when he could brace his hind foot against the spokes of the rear wheel. Slowly he
mother was so agitated she could not tell her son what was wrong. Uncle Lester swallowed a mouthful of crumbs. “It’s like this, Ralph. The housekeeper discovered a hamperful of sheets and towels and pillowcases with holes chewed in them.” Oh-oh, thought Ralph. Whatever had happened was all his fault. He might have known. “I heard her telephoning the manager about it from her office,” continued Uncle Lester. “The manager came up and called in all the maids and the bellboys and everyone had
the man would be returning with his dog. Desperate, Ralph climbed back into the ambulance. He took a breath so deep he thought his lungs would surely burst. “Wh-e-e! Wh-e-e! Wh-e-e!” He made the sound hard and fast and high-pitched. The wheels spun. The ambulance moved, slowly at first, and then as the tires got a grip on the floor of the elevator, it shot out of the crack and across the elevator and hit the rear wall with a bump. Ralph collapsed over the steering wheel, limp with relief, just
were two kinds of employees at the Mountain View Inn—the regulars, none of them young, and the summer help, who were college students working during the tourist season. “If you don’t like mice you better stay away from that knothole under the window in Room 215,” advised Matt. The sound of voices so close made Ralph more eager than ever to escape. “No!” he shouted, his voice echoing in the metal chamber. “I won’t have it! I’m too young to be dumped out with the trash!” In spite of his aches he
aren’t old enough.” “Yes, I am,” said Ralph stoutly. “There’s no telling what you might run into down there—mousetraps, cats, poison. Why, out by the garbage cans you might even be seen by an owl.” “I don’t care,” said Ralph. “Someday I’m going downstairs.” “But think of the owls, Ralph,” implored his mother. “We moved into the hotel because of the owls. It was after your Uncle Leroy disappeared and his bones were found in an owl pellet—” The mother mouse’s plea was interrupted by the sound