When bells break

Tonight, my rusted red chain fell off my gears twice as I biked from
the Russian district to Alfa’s 80s night.  I had pedaled through the
starry night with my bike squeaking away, tires deflated and bell
decapitated, over dusty construction sites and behind rickshaws
stacked with four inch four pound plastic bags of paper to be
recycled.  I was taking my bike back from my office, as I had biked to
work yesterday morning, as each pedal a struggle.  Either I was
physically tired, my tires were flat, or my gears were jammed.
Something wasn’t right. Continue reading