A Los Angeles sunset made golden by smog throws my shadow off the San Gabriel River bike path. My shadow tires stay stuck to their solid counterparts. And this is who I am when I ride. I leave my cloak of irony behind and fly ahead of my bike, in front of my troubles and my day, but with a deep sense of why I’m here. Like that whipping shadow, instantly conforming to every rut and ripple by the road, when I’m on a bike I fit the world, and the world, at least for a flitting instant, fits me.

—Gautam Raja