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Playing Chicken with an Old Friend

no blink, no bluff— just rust-bitten bikes on a gravel road, grip slipping, brakes optional. we called it honing our craft, we didn’t dodge. we needed the crash— proof we meant it, authentication we weren’t just trading truths for dopamine and DMs. some bicycles are built to survive impact. mine wasn’t one of them.

Copyright © | Year Posted 2025




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