4 days ago (meaning 5 days before my plane to Paris), my bike got stolen. Actually they took everything that could be taken, and left only the frame, locked in the street, half broken on the floor. I got that bike only a couple of months after arriving in San Francisco. It is an object, a thing, parts of metal and plastic put together to help me go through the city. I rode my bike everyday, morning and evening, all these months. Obviously, on that bike I felt free, fragile, happy, desperate, excited, overwhelmed, balanced, talented, crappy, ashamed, proud, lonely, tough, insane; I cried, I sang, I laughed, I talked, I whispered, I smiled, and so many times I just enjoyed the light and the air and the feeling that my own body could take me wherever I needed to go.
When I saw what had happened I just left and could not look back. But 2 days later I decided to come back, pick it up, and take it to a bike shop in my neighborhood. I hope they can reuse that frame, and that someone else will be using it again soon. It was interesting to carry it on my shoulders like a wounded body, switching roles, and seeing the "oh i'm sorry" faces of the bike riders along the streets.
I guess taking public transportation is a very special way to be/feel part of a city; but in SF, riding a bike up and down the hills has been a daily source of pleasure.


Nathalie Dennes said...
This comment has been removed by the author.
Nathalie Dennes said...

This bike came to life when we named it.

"Josué est le successeur de Moïse dans la conduite du peuple juif vers la Terre Promise"... "À la fin de sa vie, Josué convoque les anciens et les chefs de tribus israélites. Il les exhorte de ne pas fraterniser avec la population locale."

RIP Josué.

agathe philbé said...

MYTHIQUE! ce nom lui convenait parfaitement... ;-)