« Ogni volta che vedo un adulto in bicicletta penso che per l'Uomo ci sia ancora speranza » H. G. Wells
What a beautiful story, that of the bicycle.
not the most noble, but the most convenient, not the fastest, but definitely one of the most valuable.
killed by the advent of the motor, exhumed from ecology: as a whole, a small monument to simplicity, convenience, and the little things in life.
The other day I took the bike, I put the bag in the door behind objects, and I did the whole descent of yarn, with the air heralding rain and the air was coming towards me, a mixture of true wind and resistance caused by speed. It 'been a positive burst of adrenaline, a tour that was to last five minutes, I stretched and purpose, to better enjoy the feeling of tension in the legs, the handlebar between the fingers, around the atmosphere electric. Come back
rained, it was a light rain, light, fast falling from the clouds. The climb was not as easy as some of the descent, but it was beautiful, just like the descent of the first leg.
And even if (as I am not very sporty) half I had to get off the bike and carry it by hand, the rain and the bike at my side and the cold air and clean that I rose from the nostrils to the lungs, heart, made me feel full and empty at the same time, and I thought this was a journey that I wanted to redo. And I'll just make .
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