Biker

Against all odds, I've become a bike person. All the times I've cursed bikers, muttering obscenities as they pass me. I openly scoffed every time I saw someone walk into a store with there pant leg still rolled up.

But something has changed. My bike became my preferred mode of transportation. I actively enjoy cruising around on the little thing, swerving around cars, timing my approach to intersections so I don't have to stop. It's just fun. I even yell at cars if they get too close or act too dumb. I don't roll my pant leg up though, that's still an affront to all that is good. The me of a few months would pass current me biking to work and mutter "fucking hipster."

My bike is slowly breaking. The handle bar is cracking. The medal rubbing on itself makes a terrible squeak and the handle bars slowly rock back and forth. Every time I ride to work I envision it falling off in traffic and me falling with it. Yet, I still ride.