I am overtaken by a boy on a fat bike. It seems like I’m standing still. “How fast can you go?” I shout. “55!” he says proudly, as if he has just won the Tour.
“And without a helmet?” He looks at me like I’m the weird one. “I drive safely.”
He gives extra gas, dives into a sharp bend and drives straight towards a car on the left part of the road. I hold my breath. But he has a plan: he calls…
The car screeches on the brakes. The boy waves cheerfully and drives on. And me? I am adjusting my understanding of safe.
Readers are the authors of this column. An Ije is a personal experience or anecdote in a maximum of 120 words. Submit via [email protected]
