Today I coaxed one of the rarely used bikes off the back porch and into the street. I steered the clunky and slightly reluctant ride toward the motorcycle/bicycle highway. My first merge was not very graceful, though I was saved by a few unexpectedly gracious rush-hour moto-riders. The second, better. Maybe I was getting the hang of this. A sign ahead warned, “keep right.” I, however, needed no such reminder. The sight of people on motos approaching me head on only to get back in the proper lane just ahead of whoever they were passing was enough to keep me close to the edge of the path. I needed those patches of grass as a landing pad at traffic lights, anyway, to take the place of the brakes I did not have. I pedaled on, glancing at the flat orange disk of the setting sun in the ever-hazy sky, thinking about how glad I was that I had given this a try.