I miss my bike

So I lent my bike to my mom for a few days.

I miss my bike. It really feels as if I've lost a friend. A sense of freedom. A readon to wake up in the norning. Something to strive for. The physical challenge.

Since moving around with public transportation had become impossible and moving on feet was just too damn slow, I dug up the old rusted up Brownie, pumped the broken tires and started coasting.

I was also intrigued by stamina boost it gave me. And it made me want to challenge myself, to try to beat my own records as I gently flew on the city streets, dodging tourists and irritating drivers. And what a sense of freedom. To be able to move whenever… wherever.

I miss my bike.

Why Fixies Belong in the Garbage

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never get high on your own supply

All my friends are drunks. Or what else would you call drinking five to seven nights a week.

However, they are mostly functioning alcoholics, whereas I am a non-functioning non-alcholic, since I can’t afford to become an alcoholic. Alcoholism is an expensive hobby, you know.

Well, they work in the alcohol industry, surrounded by it every moment of their lives. They can’t help it.

I’m just a passenger, passing by.