Rear Radar

I jogged past our corner gate and scrambled up the tubular steel of a neighborhood bike rack. Parked right in the first slot was a dark commuter bike with a small round convex mirror clamped to the handlebar. The swivel ball joint had some resistance, but throwing my weight against the outer plastic bezel broke it loose with a crisp, satisfying snap. I braced my boots against the rubber grip, gripped the chrome arm with both curved hands, and tilted the lens down toward the lane. Instantly, three full blocks of avenue compressed into that tiny glass dome—wide asphalt, painted crosswalk, zero blind spots. Proper wide-angle navigation.