The truck continued up South Maple on two wheels and, just when I thought it was going to right itself, it did a quick shimmy and landed on its side.

Traffic came to a complete stop, but Bones was astonishingly still upright and unscathed on the Basket Barge. The guy driving the bakery truck popped his head out the driver's side window, which was now facing the sky, and started yelling at Bones.

  "What's a matter for you, kid! You ruined my donuts!" He was trying to open his door as if it were a hatch to a military tank.

I finally caught up to the scene—everyone was still staring— and we all watched as Bones stepped off his bike, reached down, grabbed a donut, and took a big bite out of it.  "Lump, these are delicious. You want one?"  Unbelievable.

  A police siren wailed in the distance.

"Let's go, Bones!" I said, already back on my banana seat and peddling past the over-turned bakery truck. I kept pedaling until I hit Prospect, but by then, I realized I didn't hear the familiar tread of the Basket Barge's fat tires next to me.

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