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(as of Nov 29,2020 08:15:50 UTC – Details)
People often said bad things about me. But no one ever said I couldn’t ride a bike, until the below happened.
I chose to buy my mescal from this store because the female clerk was young, pretty, and encouraging. In the tiny store, she let me corner her. On another day, I bought mescal and flirted with her; and then took off on my bike and crashed. My bike hit the street, while I ejected and landed on my feet like a cat. My glass bottle of mescal flew out of my front bike basket and rolled down the middle of the street. Two young women in university prep-school pleated short skirts, and the liquor store young woman, watched me crash. I laughed at my crash, because I didn’t get hurt and the glass bottle of mescal didn’t break. The two observing university prep-school females laughed at my crash. I said, "I’m not drunk. Really!" I picked up my bottle of mescal from mid street and put it in my front bike basket. I again mounted my bike, and almost crashed. I then saw that my bike chain was jammed, which had caused my first crash. Ten people had seen my crash and saw the bottle of mescal roll down the street. To my street audience, I pointed and said, "See, the chain jammed." In other words, I didn’t crash because I was drunk. No one believed me.
I was sure that most of my street audience was very happy to see me crash, because my daily bicycling invaded their neighborhood and their privacy. I therefore now mainly limited my bicycling to the main streets. I empathized with the Mexicans’ desire for privacy. I too had little privacy; and I extremely resented and defensively reacted to people’s meddling and intrusion in my life, which included stealing from my hotel room.
5 percent Mexico bicycling
7 percent narrative poetry