if someone were to ask me about these days, these days in the late spring of 2003, i would recall them as days spent atop a bike. atop a bike at 8 in the morning after having painfully woken up to picnic, ride, climb trees, and hike with my friends at a beautiful ltitle metropark that i didn’t know existed. or riding my bike to some friends’ new apartment and being happy for them and eating the cookout food and having a lovely time, but at the same time feeling uncomfortably adult. or riding my bike through the rain to visit a new friend and talk until far too early in the morning in a manner that was both akward and intriguing. or riding my bike to other new friends houses to play collectable card games for the first time in ages, with pubescent screams and bickering happily absent. or riding my bike through the shadows of the streetlights and the darkness in the alleys to get dumpstered bagels and bread. to be atop the bike is pleasureable now, and i barely miss the car. but can this bike take me to where i want to be when i have finally exhausted this place?