086/365 11/15/2025

Sometimes, the traffic cleared just enough for him to get some speed. Twist the throttle, listen to the little one-stroke go from it’s walking-speed puk-puk-puk to a sound more akin to a dozen angry frogs all telling their names to an admiring bog. Bibbity-bibbity-bibbity-bip! When the traffic cleared, he could feel the wind. The rush of air and even the clouds of diesel exhaust didn’t matter. In those scant seconds, he was free.