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With a couple whoops and shouts, the ride gets going. Even from the inside I knew the sight was something to behold, like watching a flock of Canadian geese embark. You know there's a leader out front, as does everyone else, but as you turn through streets and lanes, striking amazement in drivers and pedestrians, you feel as if you yourself know where you're going, and that the path is intuitive, natural, and right, guided by natural forces like magnetic poles.
Even though we ride as a pack, everyone does their own thing. Some face the road ahead, not saying anything. Others catch up on conversation. Others share cigarettes as they ride.
It's on Tuesday nights that bikers gather to claim back the streets. No longer confined to falling off the edge of the road, we stream through empty parking lots and take up both sides of empty lanes of quiet, dark neighborhoods. Sometimes dogs bark--and when we run through red lights cars honk—but we don't care. For once we don't yield.
Dear Kunal,
ReplyDeleteDoes this happen in Buenos Aires? I'm looking for something extraordinary to do in Buenos Aires tomorrow (tuesday) and you seem to be an expert on the subject... any suggestions?
It happens in Tucson, Arizona. It's part of its charm, I think. Buenos Aires is a different city--maybe try a milonga, if you haven't already; or a boliche in Punto Carrasco; or, if you have the guts, you can go to ESMA, one of the biggest and most notorious concentration camps that they used during the dictatorship, and which they've preserved just as it was as a testament to human rights.
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