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Once upon a time when I was older, and wore glasses, I owned a bicycle. It wasn’t a very expensive bike and therefore had only mediocre parts. The bike would give rides to and fro, and to and fro again. I was not the only person I knew who had a bicycle. Many people had bicycles that would give ride to and fro.

One day when riding my bike enjoying the world, which is what one should do when they ride a bike, I noticed something strange. The people who were in their cars did not seem to care that my fragile bike and my body were exposed to their hard and all too dangerous vehicles. It was as though they assumed if they bumped into me it would be the same as if they bumped into another car. They did not seem to realize that a small bump from their car would no doubt destroy my precious but cheap bicycle; it would most likely do serious damage to my body as well. I could die. So I determined that I would ride on the sidewalk, and then I would only have to deal with cars when I crossed the street. Once again I was riding my bicycle and enjoying the world.

I began to notice that my plan would not work when the nice but pushy angry police officer told me that I was not allowed to ride my bike on the sidewalk. I was only allowed to ride my bike on the street, perhaps in one of the bike lanes. Maybe the one his police car was parked in. I devised a new plan. I would ride on the sidewalk until I saw a police officer then I would either ride in the street or get of my bike and walk. Now you might imagine that riding a bicycle and enjoying the world is perhaps on of the greatest things ever. However, riding a bike always on the lookout for a police officer because you feel like you’re breaking some inane law… well it sucks.

Then one day I noticed more and more of the people I knew who also loved to ride bicycles and enjoy the world getting hurt, usually by cars who were not acting like they were supposed to. Like not looking before opening their doors or driving in the bike lane. The city did not seem to care. Many of the people I knew began to join protest groups and rally together. Once when some of them were riding their bicycles down the street together, some nice but pushy angry police officers thought it would be a good idea to hit them with sticks.

I moved out of that city. I bought a bike helmet. I still have my cheap bicycle with mediocre parts. I ride my bicycle and enjoy the world, which is what one should do when they ride a bike.