This is where my current existential crisis begins. When you sign a six-month bike subscription, you also sign a terrifyingly dense Terms & Conditions document that essentially translates to: “Do not alter this machine or we will claim your firstborn child.”

I used to ride through Boone with a helmet strapped snugly, pedaling at my own rhythm. Now I’m preparing myself for Amsterdam’s bike ballet — a choreography of speed, timing, and confidence. It’s intimidating, but also thrilling.

From Boone’s helmets to Amsterdam’s freedom, the bike has always been my companion. And I can’t wait to live life again by the bike path — this time with the wind in my hair, and maybe a basket of fresh market tulips rattling up front.