an uncertain road

It was a dark night in the city and I needed to be somewhere. To get there, had to ride a bicycle far too big for me - my feet didn't touch the ground. It was an usual bike: the seat faced backwards so that, riding it, I could only see where I had been, not where I was going. Not only that, the roads were all downhill and the bike had no brakes. I was scared, but knew it was what I had to do. I rode the big bike - backwards, down the hill, with no brakes, in the dark - twisting around to attempt to see where I was going, dodging traffic and hoping I would not crash or fall. Eventually, I arrived at a midway point where I naturally slowed and dismounted. I walked through a maze of a high-rise building - corridors, rooms, more corridors - until I reached a door blocked by a stack of boxes, both full and empty. I rearranged them, careful not to damage them, basically tunnelling my way through. Once through, I descended the stairs and found myself in the basement carpark of the building, thinking I'd find my car and drive the rest of the way. I saw what I thought was my car, but someone was in the driver's seat about to drive away. 'Wait,' I called. 'You're in the wrong car.' As they drove away, I could see it was not my car after all. I wondered how I would travel the final leg to my destination when someone asked me, 'Well, how did you get here?' I realised I needed to find the bicycle and brave the dangerous, uncertain journey - to dare - if I were to arrive.