A funny thing happened on the way to work.


A head cold, plus I need to meet with a client, so I drive to the meeting at a local coffee shop. I wear my acid green jacket anyway, because that’s the way he agreed to recognize me. “Where’s your bike?” he asks


Dressing for work, my bike isn’t on my mind. I feel a steering wheel in my hands, pedals that move forward and back instead of around. A radio on


I see the water bottles on the counter and it comes back—not a sacrifice, but because it’s good for me, good for the world, good for my family. My car keys are heavy in my pocket but I go down to the basement


Cities are never quiet.  Quieter, but even at 6:00 I can hear the cars and trucks.  Still the only headlight I see is my own, making a visible cone in the pre-dawn mist. The roads are wet from last night’s rain, slick and shiny with autumn leaves. A rabbit darts into my path then circles back to the verge, thinking better of the venture. I imagine his heart pounding the way mine does when I hit the bottom of a hill and look up

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