I could definitely have done without this month. Things were already unraveling around me when, on Sunday, I was relieved of a car battery in broad daylight. But this morning, on the back of a pehn-pehn, I thought I was flying.
I'd never been on a motorbike during rush hour so I didn't know that the bikers and their riders form a spontaneous posse. Someone smart was blasting music so there was shimmying on Yamahas, weaving through lanes, gliding around other bikes, spotting one another with that warm not-yet-rainy-season wind in your eyes as the car-people sulk, air-tight, in gridlock. This is Monrovia's maypole dance and it's worth getting on some loon's open-air machine for. 8 o'clock this morning felt like quitting time on a Friday.
You've not beat me yet, May.
I'd never been on a motorbike during rush hour so I didn't know that the bikers and their riders form a spontaneous posse. Someone smart was blasting music so there was shimmying on Yamahas, weaving through lanes, gliding around other bikes, spotting one another with that warm not-yet-rainy-season wind in your eyes as the car-people sulk, air-tight, in gridlock. This is Monrovia's maypole dance and it's worth getting on some loon's open-air machine for. 8 o'clock this morning felt like quitting time on a Friday.
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