Nonfiction | July 24, 2012

I don’t usually ride at night, but here I was setting out at about 9:30 PM. The evening seemed to grow lighter as the rain ended, and a matte-gray sky gave way to fast-moving clouds and a coral-colored sunset. It was cool for June, even by Portland standards, but I warmed up as I rode. I kept to the back streets, riding slowly, riding solo. But when I got within a few blocks of my destination, I saw more and more bicyclers. Two young women passed me on Sandy Boulevard riding no-handed, their arms spread outward like wings. I imagined them as fledglings, too big for the nest, eager to break out and fly.

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