A Saturday Bike Ride
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Recently, I rode a bike on a warm August Saturday morning to buy Basmati rice. The city occasionally slaps the rider in the face with its degradation of life. A young woman was asleep on a filth-stained sidewalk underneath a 405 Freeway bridge alongside El Segundo Boulevard. The sight of her was shocking: sooted foot pads, teen-age in appearance, curled like a fetus, her side on hard concrete, and a sack under her head. Concrete beneath and above, a river of asphalt only inches away.
Rather than a refreshing rest below a shading willow next to a cool stream, and the sweet song of a mockingbird, this woman had to cope with a harsh environment accentuated by unrelenting and irritating noises of passing cars. Every breath she took brought in lung-searing air that had been cycled through combustion engines. Meanwhile, thousands of people passed by only 50 feet above her, unaware of her pain. I continued to ride, and refocused on Basmati rice.
BIJAN HAERI JR.
El Segundo
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