I remember my mother telling me not to ride my bike in the street. "Stay in the driveway!" She would yell at my sister and me. But I couldn't stay in our small driveway, not when the road seemed to stretch all the way to infinity. Then one day, when I had grown too tired of turning around where the edge of our driveway met the street, I sped up. I didn't slow down and make a large arc to turn around. I just kept going. Pedaling faster and faster as the pavement blurred below me. I didn't get very far before my sister yelled to my mom, but I still remember the wind in my hair, my house looking smaller and smaller in the distance.