As I turn off Hawthorne into Ladd’s Addition the guy on the Peugeot says “You want to sprint through Ladd’s for fun?”
We start our sprint from a roll, not standing over. As we enter the traffic circle he indicates with a motion of his head that we’re crossing directly through. I nod assent.
I have never pulled through Ladd’s Addition in a minute.
At the stoplight on Division I say “Thanks.”
How can I not love life from the back of a bicycle? My chosen mode of transport has me outdoors on the last Sunday in April, sunshine and 75 degrees, while the suckers are trapped in their cars, in traffic, their asses inflating, and a total stranger asks whether I want to sprint for fun. Which, by the way, it is.