Imagine a typical busy city street. You’ve got a bus up against the sidewalk, a bunch of commuters pouring out. A yellow-and-black taxi in the next lane, moving slowly, looking for a fare. A big truck coming the other way, late for delivery and not stopping for anything. Like the jaywalker who’s halfway across the street, talking on his phone.
Now freeze the frame. Slow it all down in your head and look—really look—for where the gaps are. The openings. This is what Viktor has been teaching me. Learn how to ride fast, he says, but take it all in slowly. Find a clear line that lets you ride through the traffic, he says. Or the pack of cyclists, in a race.
Find and attack the gap.
I’m finally starting to understand the method behind Viktor’s training. He knows that my body can handle the races. It’s my mind that needs the work. So each morning he teaches me race tactics, or bike-handling skills like cornering. And each day, I practice everything I learn on the road during my messenger runs.
Like right now. I zero in on the gap between the taxi and the bus. In a race, it would be two other racers in the pack. I drop the hammer and accelerate, barely sliding in between the two steel walls. My handlebars nearly scrape a rearview mirror, but then I’m through, scanning the next section of street. Looking for the gaps. Planning to win.
Lunchtime. All the suits are out power-lunching. That means a brief break for Robin and me. So we’re hanging out in the park, sprawled on warm grass in the sun next to our bikes.
“Nice quads,” she says. Her sunglasses are pointed straight up at the blue sky, so I’m not sure how she can tell what my legs look like.
“Well, y’know,” I deadpan, “I work out.”
She snorts, laughs a little. Then she says, “Don’t let it go to your head. But you’re doing well at this job. The other couriers are kind of impressed. They thought you’d wash out by now.”
“And you?” I ask. “Did you think I’d make it?”
“I had high hopes,” she says, still looking straight up. “But now I don’t know…”
“What do you mean?” I ask.
She rolls over onto one arm and pushes her sunglasses up. Her green eyes lock on mine. One eyebrow rises up slowly.
“You’re cute. But you should learn how to ride a bike. And I’ve still got those training wheels…”
That’s it. I lunge at her and start tickling. She squeals and rolls away, then gracefully hops up onto her feet and into a cheesy kung-fu pose.
“We should see how good you really are,” she says dramatically. “You up for a race?”
“Right now?” I say. “Don’t we have to get back to work?”
“Not right now, doofus. Tonight. There’s an alleycat. The prize money isn’t much. But I’d think you were pretty cool if you won.” I’ve heard the other couriers talk about these races. It’s a kind of scavenger hunt for bike messengers. To win, you have to find a bunch of stops scattered throughout downtown. At each stop, there’s a challenge or puzzle of some kind. Otherwise, no rules. Find your own route, get the job done.
“Awesome. Where do I sign up?” I say.
“You don’t sign up. Just show up. This one is unofficial. Eight o’clock tonight. River Road parking garage, top level.”
That’s when my cell goes off, buzzing in my cargo shorts. I check it and see the number flashing on the screen. It’s Viktor. Robin sees the screen too.
“Viktor? Why’s he calling you?”
“I dunno,” I lie. “I should get this.” I turn away from her awkwardly and answer the phone. Just like I thought. It’s another dead run. Viktor wants me back at Champion Couriers to get the details. I hang up and turn around to see Robin glaring at me.
“What?” I ask.
“You kidding me? He’s got you doing the dead runs?”
“It’s none of your business,” I say. “Anyways, what’s the big deal? You were doing them for a while.”
“And I stopped! It was totally sketchy. I told Viktor he shouldn’t…those packages could have anything in them!”
“Look, I don’t want to know what’s in them. I just make the deliveries. I don’t ask questions. I’m not doing anything wrong.”
“You’re an idiot!” She’s actually starting to tear up. “You don’t even understand what you’ve gotten yourself into!”
“I can handle myself!” I yell back. What the hell just happened? I have this urge to run, get out of here. I don’t say another word to Robin. I grab my bike. And go.