When I arrived at university, I purchased a brakeless black bicycle from a departing senior. After inaugurating its handlebars with fresh white grip t

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2024-11-18 16:30:03

When I arrived at university, I purchased a brakeless black bicycle from a departing senior. After inaugurating its handlebars with fresh white grip tape, that bike became a trusty steed indeed.

When it sat outside the engineering building, friends knew to find me working in the math library or sleeping on that one disgusting computer lab couch. When it sat outside my apartment, friends knew Coors-branded cans awaited them in the fridge.

When I departed university, I sold that brakeless black bicycle to a sophomore. I taught him how to "safely" ride down hills. I told him to avoid ice in front of the cafeteria. There's a shortcut on the North side of campus if you're willing to take the bike down some stairs. Oh, and the roof of the biology building is always unlocked, so you can sneak in after-hours if you climb the tree in the parking lot. Sure, you can have my mini-fridge too -- consider it a gift.

And of course you eventually become somebody else. Every fulfilled wish transforms you into a person you thought you wanted to be. And when you realize that those old wishes have rotted into junk, you can wield that junk to grant others' wishes. You can give that wish a second life.

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