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My bicycle prefers the errand. Indeed, it has no interest in tranquil rides through the park, around the pond, on to nowhere... It would die of boredom. No, on sunny afternoons it desires the post office, the grocery store, the library. This is when it is best able to display, conspicuously, its skill and dexterity and forthrightness. After all, who can surpass my bicycle when it comes to a span of ten blocks? Certainly not the foot, plodding clumsily to and fro. Nor the car, halted in traffic, panting with frustration, staring at us with envy as we pedal past. When we finally arrive back home at the end of the day with the sun setting, our basket will be full of the fruits of our journey. "Good boy," I will whisper to my bicycle, and I will rub its handlebars affectionately.

Saïd Sayrafiezadeh's memoir is When Skateboards Will Be Free.