Personal Narrative: My Bikes

them in my arms. I finish my walk to my bike and place the milk and mayo in the basket of my bike along with the three half eaten jars of mayonnaise that are already sitting there still.
I come to the top of the hill and I become anxious to go down. I steadily raise my feet from the pedals and give myself a gentle push. The little push was just enough to send me flying down the hill that was a struggle getting up before. The hard work has payed off and now I am on the easy road, things were looking up for me now. The bright, yellow sun warms the Earth around me and a little butterfly keeps up with my pace. I am finally at peace with my surroundings and life agrees with me. I close my eyelids while placing my bunny feet on the handlebars of my bike and leaning back as far as I can without falling off.
The surface was cold and smooth with rays of light reflecting off of it. I carefully ajar my eyes to discover my body is on top of a car´s hood and my bike intertwining with my legs. My limbs still connected to my body are twist around my metal transportation like a pretzel. I cautiously move my arms to a position I can free myself. I untangle my limbs from the metal and set my bike back onto the asphalt. The wheels look a little deformed, but still seem like they will do the job of bringing me back home. I get back on with a smile and a bump on the head.
I end up at the bottom of the hill next to the brick building that I call home. I casually walk to the big, black door of my apartment building with my bike in hand. I open the door and turn my body to grab my bike, I twist back around to see the opening to the building is shut again. With my bike still in hand, I keep the door prop open with my butt and shove the hunk of metal through the opening with much force. I follow behind it and slam the door after I walk