متیو

MATEO

1:52 p.m.

This bike isn’t the worst thing.

I squeeze Rufus’s shoulder when he makes a sharp left, dodging some delivery guys who are staring up into the sky instead of moving a couch into a building, and we continue sailing down the street.

I felt really wobbly when he first got going, but as he picks up a good enough speed to throw a breeze our way, I appreciate the control I’m entrusting to him.

It’s freeing.

I’m not expecting to go any faster than we are, but it’s more exciting than the Make-A-Moment skydiving. Yeah, riding a bike is more thrilling than quote-unquote jumping out of a plane.

If I weren’t such a coward, or a Decker, I would lean against Rufus, shifting my weight against him. I’d put my arms out and close my eyes, but it’s too risky, so I keep holding him, which works for me, too. But when we reach our destination I’m going to do something small and brave.