I didn’t learn to ride a two-wheeled bike until I was 8 – but it was all downhill after that.

Ran into a car backing out of a driveway when I was 10 or 11, knocked me for a loop.

That same bumper-sticker covered bike was stolen a few months later off of our front stoop.

I felt violated.

Learned to bunny-hop a few years after that. Made ramps out of stolen street-signs.

Saw my brother crack his noggin on the driveway in the rain on his bike.

Did my first 60 mile ride when I was 13 or 14 in the Boy Scouts.

Never went farther than that until this year.

I enjoy the speed and the silence and thrumming sound of wheels on the road or trail. Alive and in-motion. Hope I can keep it up.

(inspired by gwadzilla)