“Adults don’t understand these things. Only kids like us can understand bikes. Look how sad he looks,” she said, pointing to the handlebars. “He’s very sad and thinking how he’d like to ride on the street for a little while.”

I looked at my lovely red bicycle. I didn’t see any sadness or pleading, but Hanan always saw things better than I did anyway. What if she was right? Besides, it’s true what she said about there not being a lot of cars on the road. “Well, maybe ...” I started to say.

“Let’s go to the street, just to see if it seems happier.”

I got on the bike and rode slowly down the narrow drive while she ran next to me and then behind me as I rode faster. When I got to the end I turned around and waited. The street to either side of me seemed like an ocean, but it was smooth and only two cars went by. When Hanan reached me, she was out of breath.

“Okay, let me try it again.” She took the bike from me and tried to get on how I had showed her, pushing off with one foot. She tried three times, and each time caught herself before she fell.

“Why don’t we ride on it together,” she said.

I held the bike steady for her as she got on and I stood in front of her with the bike between my legs. Looking at the street I felt very tiny, as if I was about to be swallowed, but I started pedaling anyway. At first I could barely make the pedals turn and I thought we would fall, but as I got my balance it was easier. The road went evenly for a while before it sloped down and got easier to pedal.

“This is wonderful,” Hanan said, laughing.

It was as though we had entered a whole new world, where the street was a smooth and vast desert. Hanan must have been right that the bike liked it better, and I felt glad that I was giving it what it wanted. I felt as though we were flying as Hanan laughed and held on to me.