Brings to mind a something my dad told me. After a devastating war, in another lifetime, in a distant land, my father as a child walked two hours alone each way to school, starting out in the early morning darkness and coming home in the dark. Later he got a second hand bike, but the cheap tires punctured easily, and he walked the bike as much as he rode it. He still preferred the bike with a flat, because he could at least hang his book bag on it. But he said that when he could ride that bike, it felt like he was flying. This son is proud of his dad.