Bicycle was stolen
Realizing my bicycle was stolen a few weeks ago was a familiar sinking feeling followed by impotent rage.
I have a special attachment to my main mode of transportation.
I only got a driver license because my wife demanded it before having a baby.
She was not reassured by my suggestion of strapping her to a bike trailer. I held back on suggesting she could just pedal herself.
I’ve been pedaling as long as I can remember.
The big wheel was pure fun, but when I got a bicycle I got freedom. I remember in Hawaii riding my new bike the morning after Christmas barefoot and still wearing my pajamas.