Author

The Bike

As a little boy I spent a lot of time playing in creeks that eventually led to Cleveland Park and the Reedy River, dirty and smelly, but a river nevertheless. I found all kinds of feathers, shells and bones, including many sun-bleached dog skulls. Once I walked a little path underneath a bridge in Cleveland Park and there was a gleaming beautiful brand new Schwinn bike. Nicer than any bike I’d ever seen. I waited under the bridge. No one came. I left the bike and came back the next day. It was still there. I came back a third day and couldn’t believe it was still there. That night I told myself if it was there tomorrow I was riding it home. The next morning I ran along the creek till it came out on the Reedy, and hurried along the little path, came around the corner and my heart sank.

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