Spinning the Spokes

Staying cooped up inside wasn't going to cut it with midday sunlight flooding the yard! I slipped through the patio screen and hit the warm cedar deck in full stride. Propped right against the railing was a parked bicycle, its front tire suspended just off the planks. That circular rim of spokes was practically calling my name. I vaulted onto the metal fork, dug my sneakers into the fork brace, and gave the rubber tread a ferocious shove with both hands. The wheel burst into a whistling blur, clicking like a runaway gear while the breeze whipped right across my quills. Out here, the track is endless!