Bikes and Experience

Bentley and I ride our bikes.
Mine a white Mongoose 28 speed with disc brakes,
his an old, beaten red hand-me-down.
We are both content with the wind blowing
Through our hair.

He is eleven and I am seventeen, an unlikely duo.
His squeaky brakes yelp as we stop
before someone with a panicked look on her face
asks about the area.

She asks Bentley how to
get to an address scrawled on a piece of paper.
When she receives a shrug
she flashes me the piece of paper and I recognize
the street name and give her general directions to get there.

As she leaves,
Bentley has a lost look in his eyes.
He wonders at the seemingly vast amount of
Knowledge I have.
His youthful face yearned for my familiarity and knowledge.
and general knowledge.

I smiled and told him to be patient-
he would get that hang of it someday.