Look, Ma!
I was driving down Church Street today and found myself behind a teenager on a bicycle. He was riding along "with no hands," as we called it when we were kids. Not holding the handlebars at all.
For awhile, both his arms were up in air, as if he were celebrating something, then one came down and scratched the back of his head while the other hung by his side. He pedaled with no hands for at least a block, supremely confident and oblivious to me behind him.
I wondered: At what age do we stop believing in no hands and start holding on?