Peddle, peddle, peddle.

They flash past too fast. My eyes can't keep up. Darting from side to side like a Federer - Nadal match. My vision starts to swirl and I look up to keep my balance. Buildings, trees, people, even that old man that sits on that stool. Waiting for the bus that will never come. The sound I love so much, school shoes hitting the gravel pavement like a dog chasing a bone. No thought of others. Single minded to the point of recklessness. An old lady riding a mobility scooter. Does she know its not a 1950's Harley? A couple with a baby that is crying like it just found out Santa isn't real. A Uni student that didn't make it home the night before. Suddenly the world becomes a giant present. Gently it is unwrapped. The blinding light sears my eyes and my wrinkles wake to consciousness. I am back. And biking. Its the morning routine, of course.