Psychic Cycling Diary

Vertigo pedaling over the city on a clear day--look down too much and you can lose it. All those angles and alleyways and windows and walls. Better to look to the horizon, look to where you're headed, look to where you want to go.

That's when I hit the window. I guess it was the horizon behind me I was seeing. Faceplanted into the glass on the side of a skyscraper, which was weirdly soft, like the plastic fenders and hoods on cars when you hit them in slow motion. There I am with my face squished sideways on the glass, my bike on top of me, and a window washer swoops in and picks me up, bike and all, in his basket.