ON HE RODE — Chapter Twenty-Nine (A Rough Draft)

Lucky for me, the car never hit the bike and the ditch flattened out to cushioning undergrowth. My great black Dutch ditch-bike was a girder on wheels, impervious to bending or breaking, and, like a full-body splint, all my guts and gizzards stayed more or less securely in place while lightly skimming over the handlebars … Continue reading ON HE RODE — Chapter Twenty-Nine (A Rough Draft)