Hey teenage boy, riding your bicycle down my
street, arms outstretched like your flying. They
told me it doesn’t get any better than this: teenage
dreaming, hormones raging, cliques, and video
games. They said growing up is a special kind of
misery. Well, I’d like to tell you they were lying.
I’d like to tell you I’m still flying down the street.
What I can say is that they were mostly right. It
doesn’t get better, but it gets just about as good.
Let’s face it. There’re very few things better than
doing “no hands” on your bicycle, especially when
you don’t have to work in the morning.