Holla at me. Here Kiko continues to re-meet Mike, which is how things start to happen in a linear way again. I want to speed up the pace. And of course, if you want to start from the beginning, go here.
Second were the bikes hanging upside down in the loft, they were thin and light like Mike’s. In fact, thinking back to where the egg white feta omelets go they were like spider webs floating gently over the thin strong woman who over-tipped him in that loft. There was so little bike there that he thought that they probably floated up to the ceiling, rather than hanging there, Kiko thought. But were those webs a trap for a fly like him, or the fairy-dragonfly wings spouting out of the back of the omelet-bicycle lady?
And finally, he wondered how he had beaten Mike, on his sick-slick-skinny-little bike and funny clothes, up and over the Queensboro Bridge. Kevin had also asked how he went so fast. Kiko just knew that he could ride well, but he had no idea that it was phenomenal, and Key-Vin and Bridge Mike’s attention just made him self-conscious and suspicious.
On Sunday, Kiko’s day off, after a fair amount of negotiation he agreed to meet mike and go for a ride. According to Mike Central Park was too busy, so they met out on the LIE service road and rode out of Flushing towards Long Island. It was there that Mike had a proper bike, “una bicicleta flaca muy bonita, Gracias. Estás seguro?”
Reassuringly, “yeah, sure Kiko, this is one I no longer use,” as he took out an allen key set and adjusted the seat and handlebars to Kiko’s height. Mike explained the mechanics of a proper fit on a bike in Queens English that went by far too fast for Kiko to understand: “The heel of your foot on the pedal when your leg is stretched out will keep you from rocking… Bent over enough when in the drops to stay out of the wind while not interfering with your breathing… Head-up, shoulders down….”