Outside of town, on the winding Parkway Road, you can find a bicycle. It’s red and dainty with a light wicker basket. It sits on the Ganderson’s fence beside their old sheep pasture, the one with the pond. There’s still a few sheep that graze there, including Gary the Magnificent. Every year, the Ganderson’s have him shorn by their grandson as Mrs. Ganderson still fancies her wool crafts.
I think you should take a strip out there. It’s just a mile hike. You’ll see their old goats, Nilly & Nebby, hopping up their retired chicken house. It’s quite the sight to see. Turn twice and you’ll get a good look at the abandoned radio station, left unclaimed by the new, nationwide company that took over.
Sometimes, I swear you can still hear Billy Bob’s voice if you listen real close. Though it could be the bleeding goats. They’re similar pitches.
When you arrive, don’t lean on the fence posts. I did that once, but, while kept up, a few stray ends of barbed wire decided they were, instead, vines. You’re sure to scratch your knees on them if you get close.
Ignore the fence, grab the bike. Take a seat and place your items in the basket. Don’t worry, the tires are wide and sturdy and tough. Go off to the East of the gravel road, following the dear path.
There, my daughter, you will find where your father and I first met. It was late. I was crying. He was awkward and lent me his coat. But, most importantly, he gave me that bike so I could see him anytime. Now go ride it to your heart’s content.
Whether love comes or not for you, know that I’m still with you whenever you ride.