I’ve been biking to work for six weeks now. Somehow, I only noticed this bicycle yesterday.
I missed the light so I could take the time to read what it said. . .since this sort of memorial just seems so much more aesthetically pleasing than the bottles of malt liquor and plastic flowers I pass at the sites of gang warfare casualties. It’s been there since the day before my birthday last year, a ghost bike for a fellow commuter.
Coincidentally, this is the only intersection on my commute that I’ve witnessed the aftermath of an accident at, granted, that involved cars, but I’m still more aware there of the vehicle traffic around me than I am at other spots on my route, so maybe the ghost bike has been working its magic even without me noticing its physical presence.