new path

An old racing bike, a destination (and a purpose) of my own, and sun after two days of none. We went to see the old bike guy on YiXueJie (though the shop is a new one I didn't know, down the road). He's worked on at least four different bikes for me, and always works for almost nothing. Raise the seat and they both think it's too high. But it's just how I like it. And there are curved handlebars and all. The hole-in-the-wall jewelry shop owner stopped me to say hello. Explained that her shop was closed for the holiday until next week but wouldn't I come by? And could she have my phone number? I told her I didn't have on yet, my first lie. "What if she asks again?" I worried for a minute. Then I realized that she won't.

In the afternoon I loaded mildew-smelling clothes into a duffel bag and headed out on the bike for Karen's apartment. She had soft cushions on the coach and stories of spring festival travel to laugh to.