Flying Free.

She hung, sad and forgotten in the garage all last winter. As my sturdy leather boots had the pleasure of accompanying me through the streets of Paris, up the hills of Montmartre and along the seawall of Antibes her tires got flatter and flatter, deflated much the same way as her purpose in life was.


Eager to fly through puddles at breakneck speeds, she was instead treated to the uninspiring view of our unchanging rafters. Wanting only to defy gravity and hurtle down hills, she could instead feel that one nail tethering her incessantly to the reality of stagnation. Nothing changed either, when I returned from my time abroad. Her pedals got dusty as I donned high heels, rode the bus, and turned a blind eye to how she longed to be back on the road.


We tried to reconnect, well at least on a surface level. All we got for our efforts was a broken spoke and the sound of my neglect rising to the surface each and every time I pulled the brakes. Banished for insufficient performance, she was hung back up in the haste of final presentations and family obligations.

beja flor

But then last week it all changed.
Last week there was a tune up from the good folks at Performance Bikes. There was a new spoke, a genuine token of my appreciation for her. There was an adjustment to the gears, a blinking red tail light and a commitment to rediscovering my lovely and agile bicycle.

We’ve been hurtling all over the city together since then. To and from downtown, up hills and through early morning mists. It’s making me feel physically the same feeling I’ve been having emotionally.

This is a time of flying free. This is a time to cover ground at breakneck speeds. This is a time to discover the world. This is a time to be capable of anything.


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