Anatomy of a Photo: The Joy of the Ride
Being the youngest in my family meant I spent a few long years staring at my older siblings’ bikes, wishing for the opportunity to grow up too fast and get to the prescribed age of being allowed to ride a bike. When the time finally came, my brother took me to the trail behind the house and I learned to ride a heavy yellow 10-speed procured from the bicycle department at none other than the esteemed local Sears.
Even on that first wobbly ride down that bumpy dirt trail, the joy of riding along above the ground and feeling as close as a person could come to understanding what birds feel like when they take flight was immediately addictive. Even today, when I climb on my bike, I still feel that same thrill of my first ride, albeit with presumably less Rule Violations than this little tyke.