You all remember that bike I was telling you about? The one that I found in my grandparents' basement in a total moment of God's Golden Glory? The one that I had big dreams about, the same way I find a new hat or a van and think of all the beautiful things I could do in them? That bike was scrubbed clean and pumped full, and then it was presented before me.
As beautiful as she was in the basement, she sparkled in the midday sun when my grandpa set it down on the concrete. She's cherry red with Benotto tape on the drop handles. I clambered on and shoved off and then it was like... it was like reading for the first time. Like finally recognizing the words without having to sound them out. I was shaky, since the bike was much thinner than any other bike I've ridden, but oh. Oh. Oh, it was love.
As beautiful as she was in the basement, she sparkled in the midday sun when my grandpa set it down on the concrete. She's cherry red with Benotto tape on the drop handles. I clambered on and shoved off and then it was like... it was like reading for the first time. Like finally recognizing the words without having to sound them out. I was shaky, since the bike was much thinner than any other bike I've ridden, but oh. Oh. Oh, it was love.
I had to bid her goodbye for the weekend and came back home to see her shining face in the garage. I was itching to take her for a spin, like meth addict itching, and then it started raining as if God himself were pouring out the bathtub in the clouds.
It rained because that bike belonged to God. God bought that bike in 1982 for Jesus to ride and when Jesus complained about it being a girl's bike, God sent it down to the basement never to be found again, until I noticed her out of the corner of my eye as the most beautiful bike on the planet. I named her Dorothy, she makes me want to actually get off my ass once in a while.
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