I took my bicycle out for a ride last night. I decided to stop for a quick errand. While I normally lock my bicycle onto the closest secure structure, once through the front wheel and once through the frame, last night I decided not to. In hindside, this could have been an idiotic idea, but it was also an idea with principle. I shouldn’t have to lock my bicycle up, therefore I did not. Surprisingly, I wasn’t all too worried about losing my bicycle last night. I knew in the back of my head, if it wanted to leave, it would. I’m sure it enjoyed its freedom last night. Traveling the street quickly, unsupervised, feeling the adrenaline on its race against the clock, counting down the seconds until it needed to be back for my return. I was away for 30 minutes. That’s plenty of time to cover at least 6 miles for an experienced city bicycle. I’d like to ask it where it went. I wonder if my presence on the bicycle limits it in any way, or fatigues it or keeps pace perfectly. I imagine my bicycle is a quick roadster that tears by cars on the street, hopping curbs and drifting into stops. I’m sure that the adventure it partook in was quite exciting.
When I returned back to its location, I was relieved to see it positioned in the same stance on the structure I had left it. for a fleeting moment, I thought I noticed a grin on its face. I grinned back. Never will I be locking my bicycle up again. I revel in the mystery of its freedom.
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