The rush of the wind


I was browsing through my old college photos and came upon a picture of me perched on my 10-speed bike. Man, did I love my red bike! I remember buying it at Pep Boys and paying $10 for the guy to assemble it for me because I was sure if I assembled it myself, the nuts and bolts would go flying apart at some point.

Having a bike was crucial for getting to class on time. I was carrying a heavy load of classes which were often back-to-back and scattered all over campus and there was no way I could walk from one class to the next in 10 minutes. Riding a bike was practically the only way to get around.

After class, I would jump on my bike, maneuver the crowded walkways to another building, park it at one of the bike racks and rush to class. I rode my bike everywhere, sometimes for several blocks to the bank or to my girl friend’s house. That freedom, that rush of the wind on your face – that’s priceless!

I parked my bike in the living room of my apartment. Every day, I would physically lift up my bike on my shoulders, with my backpack on my back, and carry it up/down the stairs to my apartment on the second floor. Strangely it wasn’t a chore or anything. It was just part of the fun of owning a bicycle.

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