I eek over the crest of the hill. Out of the corner of my eye a driver creeps left, looking to try and pass me. I grin knowingly — he’s got no chance.
I switch into high gear, the push of muscle combines with the pull of gravity, acceleration quickly transforms to velocity, and I take the whole lane. A fleeting feeling of weightlessness catches me as I whip over the speed bump; in a blink, I’m down the hill. Faced with the threat of a raised bump of asphalt, the car slows down to a crawl and has barely moved from where I left it.
The drivers don’t realized how bulky and slow they are in their cumbersome metal carriages. Their slowness contrasts with my own agility and my moment by moment connection with the road — reminding me why I enjoy riding these streets, and making me feel alive.