Bicycle gears, parenting, and preparing for the road of life — “Okay, let’s start in the middle.” Snap, snap, snap. “Like this?” “Perfect. Now, when you start pedaling, it’s gonna make a funny sound. Kind of a clunk-clunk. But you’re okay. That’s just the gears changing. Ready?” “Okay.” “Here we go!” Clunk-CLUNK! Two bikes roll into motion. This road is flat…

The hardscrabble joys of a first apartment — There were bars on the windows. The TV was old and finicky. The corners were dusty, and the refrigerator was stocked with only Ultra Slimfast and a bottle of Jägermeister. But for four months, this place was mine. I’d spent two years in college, and I was determined not to…

Embracing the straight razor — My face is bleeding, and I can’t stop it. Drops rise out of my neck. They bubble from my temple, my cheek, the edge of my mouth. I wipe the blood away with a wet hand, but it still seeps. I leave streaks and smudges. I press tissue paper to…

The mysteries we never solve about our neighbors — 1. We don’t know her name, but we call her Figure Eight Girl. When we first move into our house, she’s there, in the middle of the street, riding in figure eights on her bicycle. She’s young, but we can’t tell how young. She wears faded denim shorts and a tank…

A winter storm. A timeless tale. A city brought together. — I picture this: I am old and have many grandchildren. Unprompted, I tell them about the Snowstorm of 2010. “It had just turned February,” I’ll explain. “A mild winter, ’til then. Nobody saw it coming.” I’m wizened and gray, stationed in a wicker chair, and I mumble about the snowstorm…

How missing one little accessory can shape your whole worldview — Lose your wallet, and life stops. Your money ceases to exist. Your credit is null and void. Your personhood can’t be verified. You can’t legally operate the car you’re sitting in, as you frantically search your pockets for the missing item. …

Searching for James Michener in Doylestown, Pennsylvania — The typewriter looks exactly as it should: simple, smooth, and gray. There’s nothing special about this Olympia De Luxe; any secretary pool in the 1960s was full of such machines. It stands on an unremarkable writing desk, protected by a wall of glass. Which is all fitting, because James A…

What happens when your body rejects your obsessions? — The MRI is noisier than I expected. I lie here, perfectly still, and the machine hums, grumbles, creaks, and groans. I stare at the ceiling, hands clasped over my chest, trying not to move. One twitch or spasm, and I’ll ruin the picture I desperately need. I’m not inside the…

The best way to learn a new city: from a moving bicycle — Picture yourself on Main Street, a quiet road with old brick factories and weird intersections. It’s right next to your new office. This is where you start. You’re seated on your bike, balancing with your foot against a curb. This is your first ride in Rhode Island, where you now…