After her afternoon of tears, I thought of a way to cheer her up, something I should’ve done anyway because she was leaving her home, and even as messed up as her life here had been, I figured she had to have some fond memories of the place at least.
I sometimes forget that I myself was born here and had spent my more formative years here before moving to NYC. I can’t help but try to imagine how my life would’ve turned out had I not left. How different would I be now? Would I have followed in my dad’s footsteps and become a biker?
It seems to be in the blood because outside of my work and now her, riding has always been one of my greatest passions. Whenever I got the chance after a job was done, I’d spend a few days just riding to clear my head. I’d escape to my favorite place on the Island, a manmade nature trail someone had created back in the seventies as a safe place for bikers, surrounded by trees and foliage and well off the beaten path.