It was an idyllic summer day. My dad, two of my brothers, and I were on our way home from the bike trails, and I was at the wheel. I’d had my license for all of two weeks when I heard the terrible sound of metal dragging and watched in horror in the rearview mirror as four bikes went bouncing down the road because a crucial pin in the back rack had rusted out.
Though (miraculously) none of the cars behind me hit the bikes or each other, let’s just…
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