The Great Concrete Yonder

I've been enjoying the outdoors the past few days thanks to a new bike I received for my birthday. When I was growing up, I was one of the kids whose mother wouldn't let him ride in the street - we were only allowed to stay in our yard. I would cycle tirelessly around our house over and over hopping from the back patio concrete onto the grass with a lil jump every time, brushing past the pine trees, crossing in front of the house, and then doing it over again. I would race my brother on his bike in the same fashion whilst remaining in our virtual prison.
But don't get me wrong, I did want to break free. I got the chance whenever my grandmother would come into to town to watch us. She was from the country, there weren't any boundaries us while we were there. Thankfully for me this translated to her visits in the city.
I would burst onto the street and pedal to the church (a good 2 miles away) and explore the same streets I had only seen through car windows. It was a whole new experience. I never was an expert at balancing my self while not holding the handlebars-but I can tell you it felt like those guys look when they ride-effortless and exciting all at once. I would then coast down the hill and slide into the driveway to check and see if my mother had come home. If she had not, I felt like I had won a contest and then I heading off once again to have my cheeks exposed to that graceful summer wind (and to stick one to the man at the same time).

PS: My mother still doesn't know I did this, don't squeal if you don't mind.