I awaken to the feeling of hands on my shoulders and back; warm hands not yet callused with age. Slowly, I begin to move with a slight groan, gently loping down a ramp and into the early morning.
We are walking through grass. I can feel the dew clinging to my legs, can feel the early morning mists still wrapping around my body as if that will protect them from the burning sun.
With a sudden bump, the grass changes to worn pavement, the surface still faintly radiating heat from the cars that pass in the night. I am brought to a halt, the hands shifting their positions on my frame. As always, I feel the welcome weight of someone on my back, their body warm and full of life not yet lived.
One gentle kick, and we are off into the morning's light. Once more, we are two parts of one whole, a boy and his bike out on a morning ride.