One night, while bicycling home, a drunk girl pushing me into traffic. I collided with a car, flipped over my handlebars and landed on the pavement in such a way that my face required stitches. But, as luck would have it, this was only the second worst thing that happened to me that day.<a href="https://www.instagram.com/fletchercjohnson">Instagram</a><a href="https://fletchercjohnson.substack.com/">Substack</a>

One night, while bicycling home, a drunk girl pushing me into traffic. I collided with a car, flipped over my handlebars and landed on the pavement in such a way that my face required stitches. But, as luck would have it, this was only the second worst thing that happened to me that day. Instagram Substack

One night, while bicycling home, a drunk girl pushing me into traffic. I collided with a car, flipped over my handlebars and landed on the pavement in such a way that my face required stitches. But, as luck would have it, this was only the second worst thing that happened to me that day.<a href="https://www.instagram.com/fletchercjohnson" rel="noopener noreferrer">Instagram</a><a href="https://fletchercjohnson.substack.com/" rel="noopener noreferrer">Substack</a>

Bicycle

A storytelling podcast about living on rooftops, behind couches, in pantries, and on a little bed at the foot of a Polish girl’s bed

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Bicycle

Bicycle

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