Cycling up the new asphalt on Sorauren last week took me back to the town where I first learned to ride, where every summer, the approach to road renewal was to spread a thin layer of tar and a second of very fine gravel, with the expectation it would slowly work its way into the existing surface. The immediate result for a nine-year-old boy, though, was a coin-toss between the most awesome skid ever and one nasty bloodied knee.
Decades later, I can still feel the thrill my first bike gave me, still haunted by the fear of skidding out.
Inspired by The End of August. Image by ChatGPT.
For me that thrill enlivened me and i moved on to way more thrilling things like jumping a Nash Metropolitin with a bannana seat and ape hangers.
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