When I was eight I had a blue, three-speed bicycle. A lever mounted in white plastic on the bar between the seat and the handlebars shifted speeds. The fenders were shiny. I kept the bike in the garage and under a blanket. I want to share three times I rode it.
I rode around in front of my house imagining that my best friend was with me. I was lonely. I saw him in school only.
I rode around in circles in the driveway. There was ice. I rode carefully around it and did not fall.
I was riding on the street toward a car. I looked down, maybe to change the shift-lever, and hit the car. That resulted in my getting hurt.
We moved to a different state, and the bicycle moved with us. I remember the bicycle in a condominium we lived in. Then I can't remember it. I loved that bike. It was a gift. I still miss it. Now I am in middle age and I feel sad, in this brain, this mind, my left, about losing my all-time favorite bike. It was the right color. I can add that it was masculine, and phallic.
I got a car that color. I crashed the car. I think that I wanted to lose the car so it wouldn't be taken from me. Fear of losing the car may have prodded me to face fear of losing the car, and I lost the car. I feel sad about that, too. This mind, which is more mature than my other mind, actually has feelings for material things. I hugged the blue car once; I hope no one saw me do that. I am sad. I want my blue bicycle back. I don't know what happened to it.
Please tell me, if you wouldn't mind replying to this, things I communicated here that I may not have known I was communicating. (I am aware of literal meanings only.) What does the bicycle represent? Maybe it represents--let's see. Freedom. Autonomy. Status. Wealth. Power. And love, from whoever gave it to me. I'd love to hear your replies.