A welcome return of Vera, Rosenberry’s rough-cut alter-ego. Here she gets her much-loved tricycle ripped off during a visit to the park (Rosenberry likes to tackle life’s curveballs: first day at school, going to the dentist, etc.). An unavailing search is conducted as the skies open up, mirroring Vera’s tear ducts. But her father has renovated and buffed her older sister’s bike (nice recycling touch). Vera takes to it with a passion, all but the starting and stopping parts. The story climaxes with Vera pedaling into the sunset because she doesn’t know how to apply the brakes, only to give them a good stomp and discover the mechanics of a body in motion. The top-drawer story comes with equally fine artwork—soaked watercolors that unfurl across the page—and characterizations, from Vera’s poses to her trim, Botticelli-esque mother’s clodhoppers. (Picture book. 4-7)
