My Bike Jorge Heredia My day was ruined; when I found out I wasn’t going to be able to ride my bike. It was a nice day to ride my bike. I had the proper protection, my chains were lubed, and the tires were filled. I was safe and everything. I was taught to ride a bike in 6th grade in this bike riding education class. They taught me all I need to know about bikes. I learned how to get a bike, how to ride a bike, and how to be safe doing it. I had no idea that this small problem could stop me. Of all people, why me? What had happened was ridiculous, yet saddening. While I was at school, my bike was waiting in my room. It looked damn good in there. I couldn’t stop thinking about how fast and harsh I was going to ride it. But, something seemed odd when I left. I went the whole day thinking about the bike and what I was forgetting. When I was in 8th period, I couldn’t help but remember that I hadn’t locked my doors or windows. My bike was vulnerable; especially, from my brother. I always noticed how my brother would pass by me and bike and just eye at it. He wanted it because he knows that he couldn’t have a bike that amazing. He had been hoping to one day take it from me when I’m not around. I had to sprint my way home to see if my brother got there before me. He commutes in college; I’m a senior in high school. Even though my bike was 4 years older than me when I found it, it was in amazing shape to not ride it. The spokes were just so thin and shiny, the wheels were perfectly inflated, the handlebars had no dents or scratches, and the seat was just perfectly shaped. This bike is jaw dropping; it’s mind-blowing; hound-worthy; and just plain sexy. Finding this bike was like striking oil. On my way home, I came across an idea. If I rode the bus, I’d be able to get a ride home. But, then again the bus sucks. I always hated the bus. It smelled like pee, hobos are there all the time, it’s infested. Riding the bike would’ve been a horrible idea. I think if I rode the bus, I would have never been able to ride my bike since I’d get sick from the diseases the bus has. I don’t know how desperate I was. I finally ran got home. I quickly opened the door, dropped my bag, and jumped towards my room door. I opened it, and found my bike. It was taken by my brother! I was so happy and excited to see that my brother didn’t take it. I was full of joy to know that I could ride my bike. I brought my bike out, and got on it. Something didn’t feel right. I checked it out and tried to figure out what was wrong with it. It was a bit broken down. It was as if someone had been on it. I did not know how, but my instincts told me that someone was on it. I couldn’t believe it; my own brother rode my bike. He ruined it. I was supposed to be the only one to ride that bike. It was my bike. I had to just throw it out now that I knew how used up it was by my own blood. It would have never been the same.