|The System, is down, the system, is down, the system, is down (no water=no power) (go listen to this while reading)|
But the ride is perfect. Go, hard, into the afternoon, push the muscles and breathe the air, feel the sunshine and wave at everyone. The nice people and the mean bastards. The downtrodden and the rich percenters. Wave hard as they whoosh behind you and watch your perfection in motion.
It's momentary. It's fleeting. But in the ride, perfection may be found. In the flow and balance, the arc and turn, the wheel and excellent quiet. Wind and sun. Pedals. Muscles that go when you require it.
Imperfection parts like a sea of craziness. The system may be down, but it is but a speck fading in the distance behind you, because the ride flows out in front like infinite possibility, unlimited, unknown, but pulling you into it.
People are broken. But the ride is perfect.
|See me? I'm the molecule-sized bicycle rider going like crazy down that wonder-tube|