I saw him from the bus window, a lone biker on a share cycle, not his own road bike. He was wearing no helmet and his hair was in a bun.

What caught my eye, though, was his suit jacket. It was flaring out behind him as he rode, and it made him seem, though he was suited for a day in the office, about eight years old.

He was any kid on the way to the park or the pool on a delicious summer afternoon, all his life before him. He was free! But better than that, he managed to capture this feeling on the way to work.

He was not practicing safe behavior. There was no bike helmet in sight. But I couldn’t take my eyes off him. We were behind him all the way down Clarendon, as I watched his coat tails fly.