Bicycle

A bit of an essay a propos of nothing at all.

I think this is OK with a credit and a link.
But I can't read French for crap any more.

My first bicycle had slightly loose handlebars. I could push them down or pull them up. The hand grips were equipped with cool streamers.

But the handlebars were connected to the rocket engines in the back. If I shifted down, then the rocket engines would point to the ground and launch me into the sky.

This really happened. I spent a summer flying over the rooftops of my neighborhood, with a mental soundtrack of newly-discovered rock 'n' roll. Chuck Berry was the best for altitude.

This was in that between time when riding a bike was freedom, and before "Freedom's Just Another Word for "Nothin' Left to Lose'".