Once upon a time. (After school at a bike locker at North Berkeley BART station.)My bike was stolen towards the end of November – early on a Sunday afternoon on Shattuck Avenue downtown Berkeley, while I was having brunch. Gone.
Suddenly being without a bike reminded me how much I rely on it for transportation and safety at night, and also for fun. I found that I couldn't replace it immediately. Disheartening.
On Tuesday, November 23, I wrote this 101-word story about walking:
Walking, walking, walking. It feels like Berkeley is bigger now that I (suddenly) don’t have a bicycle. It takes much longer to get from here to there. I’m mostly frustrated with this slow pace, and a little bit grateful even though I’m angry too. I was walking west towards Ashby BART this afternoon on my regular route. There’s an old woman who sits on a porch in the sun on Woolsey Street, and we always wave as I zoom past on my bike. But today I was walking, and she invited me to sit down. I did. Her name is Dora.
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The second part of my bicycle story will be here soon.
o
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