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A parable for the modern two-wheeled or two-legged being

My front wheel decides for me. It’s where the thought processes turn into synapses and signals, which then turn into actions.

My back wheel just follows.

Usually it turns out pretty well. Front wheel decides to go right, and back wheel also veers to the side, albeit a moment later and a touch more hesitant. But it doesn’t have much choice.

My front wheel and my back wheel rarely disagree.

But sometimes, very rarely, my front wheel sees an obstacle, and just can’t resist. “Let’s go up ONTO that obstacle, and see where it leads. A pavement? Come on! » Back wheel screams « no! », but front wheel has set its eyes on the 3cm challenge and back wheel can only close its eyes and obey. Front wheel turns onto the obstacle, and with a small nudge and shove, gets up onto the safety and relative novelty of the higher surface. But the turn wasn’t sharp enough. Back wheel can see the step coming, can see those 3cm of daunting, block grey looming, and can’ turn more than front wheel has already turned. Back wheel hits the 3cm with what starts as a soft press, like a kiss on the cheek of someone you deeply care for but know that the lips are off-limits. Then the pressing turns into a squeezing, an oppressive tightness, a proximity which neither decided, and the pressure gets too much and back wheel slides off and down, down, down, towards the very surface which was once a safe haven. Not a pressing, or a squeezing, but a thud with a metallic thrust.

And both back wheel and front wheel realise that it was a big mistake. The road was safer, and now no obstacle, however small, will seem safe.



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