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. You can’t even pick up a book from the…

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…

On cycling pioneer Kittie Knox — and the movie that someone should make about her I’m picturing a movie. In the opening scene, Kittie Knox is threading a needle. She sits at a workbench in a cramped little shop. Fabrics are draped all around her, and headless mannequins wear half-made dresses. Kittie licks the thread, but she’s having trouble pushing it through the needle’s eye…

Bikes and trains are a magic combination. And hella rare. — I’m standing on a railroad platform, and I’m about to do something I’ve wanted to do for years. It’s nothing crazy. It may be the simplest thing you can do while standing up. With one hand, I clutch my handlebars. With the other, I hold my saddle to steady the…

Yes — and many have. But what exactly does that mean? — If you asked to see my “bucket list,” I wouldn’t have one to show you. Nothing formal, anyway. Nothing written down or itemized, even in my most private journals. Whatever passes for my bucket list is abstract and ever-changing, like a game of telephone I happen to be playing alone. …