biking home

mid-sept.
I have just retied the lines that connect me to home and those I love. I'm riding along the straight road from the internet shop towards the large radio tower and my home. It blinks red in the dark. The weather is perfect. The hot sun has long since gone down. A light drizzle spots my clothes and cools my face. It took me a while to learn on my rickety old woman's bike, but I can now ride without hands. I'm singing. My hands are free to wave and move to the rhythm. My flat back tire bumps along, trying to stay on beat. Thump, thump, thump... Motos pass on my left and some turn 'round to look at me. People eating late out by the street on my right stare as I pass. Maybe it's because I'm riding handless, but more likely it's because I stand out as a foreigner. I don't care either way. The music is good and I'm having fun.