Under the bridges the wind swept snow lands. I set my bike down and look at a wall recently patched with white paint. A rider with pink shoes fly's on by.
A mother pulls her child in a Burly. She rides slows.
I always ask a biker who is broken down, "Are you alright?" I stop if there I sense hesitation.
I wait for a response.
"Do you need a chain tool ----mmmh. I'm not sure that I have one."
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