The couple walked hand-in-hand through Philadelphia and stopped as Front Street brought them to cobblestone. They looked around and sat on a bench.
“My feet hurt. This is just the break I need.”
A loud sound started coming from around the corner, the sound of a car driving quite quickly on a flat tire. It reverberated off the giant stone statues that made up the monument across the street.
“Sounds like a flat,” he told her knowingly.
“You don’t come to the city enough. It’s just the cobblestone.” He looked at the street and noticed for the first time that it was made of bricks rather than asphalt.
“Oh that’s what you’re always complaining about walking on when you leave work!”
She nodded and snuggled up to him as a cold wind came across Columbus Boulevard from the river.
“But they’re all uneven and messed up. They must be terrible to walk on. I can understand why you’re always breaking shoes.”
“And skinning my knees when I trip.”
The sound of horse hooves came from around the same corner. He watched as the light turned green and a small stream of cars vibrated across the old red bricks. Once the cars were gone the clopping of the horses took control of the environment once again.
The horse and cart rolled by and made less noise against the bumpy road than the cars made only a moment ago.
He watched a guy on his bicycle coming through the park. The biker ignored the red traffic light and flew into the path of an oncoming car that clearly had the right of way. He stopped the bike and started yelling profanities.
“You can tell the cobblestone streets were made for carriages and not cars. I wonder what they’re like for bikes,” he said to her.
“Smart bikers stay away from cobblestone. But sometimes you just can’t avoid it.”
The biker got back onto his bicycle and started on his way only to hit a huge cobblestone brick that was a few inches higher than the rest. The bike tire stopped, throwing the angry biker over the handlebars. He skidded to a halt and sat up, a bit bewildered.
“Try not to laugh,” she said to her boyfriend as he stifled a giggle.
Liked it! (Oops, there’s that word again). Had a similar thing happen in Massachusetts, only didn’t fly over the handle bars. Men’s bike. Need I say more.