Before I went to high school, I liked to bike during weekends.
Not the sport kind of biking, but more like a “wild kid” kind of biking.
My definition of “wild kid” was going somewhere during my parent’s nap.
My bicycle would take me 30-minute away from home, to the store that sold all the Japanese animation VHS videos and other byproducts.
Or to the menga book (Japanese comic) store that allowed you to read a comic book for NTD5 (about a nickel.)
Or, sometimes, I just idled around to see how far my bicycle would take me.
I always enjoyed the blue sky and the breeze that holding me.
This afternoon, I went out to bike – the sport kind of biking; mainly because I didn’t want my face continue to blow like a balloon in those holiday photos. So I took the bike, riding, riding, and riding.
While there’re lots cars on the streets (don’t know what they’re doing while all the stores are close for the holiday – they surely were not working out like me), there’s no traffic on the pedestrian way. Some kids were taking their bikes, just like me, or just like the 12-year-old I used to be.
It reminded me the little girl that were at their age, strolling in the neighborhood by her bicycle, and enjoy the very moment while on the bicycle.
