The great affair is to move, Stevenson could be heard saying.

Stood by the baker admiring falling leaves, thinking of season’s turn and went glass-eyed recalling the many rides on the bike. Hit back home after barreling through the ring road and through the sloth of evening traffic. A big engine and a good ride sometimes is the answer to every question in life. 

Weather has turned. Soon the city’s avenues will be alive with colorful blooms. Riding underneath them has become as natural as the flowering. 

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