The first time I rode over the Manhattan bridge to work I fell. Hard. Blood. Boo-boos. Torn clothes. Sad face.
But... I did get up and finished the ride to work, and rode home.
It does make riding the bridge something that I'm always slightly apprehensive about. I'm glad to say the other night was one of my best rides over the bridge. Seemingly effortless and perfectly calm, the bridge proved the perfect place to stop and think about the my place in the city. Sometimes lost, but happily fumbling along. At present, I'm enjoying it.
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