It’s really just that I’ve fallen in love with my 15-year-old bike. I’ve had affection for it many times over the years, but this is a bit different. On the nights when Scott has bedtime duty, I’ve begun to hop on my two wheels and explore. It’s nice and quiet and the light is just right in the almost-evening sky. And it feels so good when the muscles in my legs are burning and I feel like there’s just no way I’m going to make it up that hill. But I do. Bikes are good things. So are hills. And so are summer evenings when I have half an hour to myself to pedal through the nooks and crannies of my neighborhood.