I've never biked through a fountain. Until I was 10, I'd never biked beyond our block. "If you can't see the house then we can't see you," Mom said. But one super Saturday, finally worn by my pleas for pedaled freedom, my parents let me ride around the block with my friends.
One condition: I had to return in 10 minutes.
I took this to mean that I could lap the 'hood in 10-minute intervals as many times as I pleased as long as I checked in at home each time. But opening the front door to yell
"PRESENT! OK! BYE!"
and slamming it shut, but listening to this 12 times in 2 hours was not what Dad bargained for.
"Enough is enough!" But he, not one to renege without some practical justification, added, "You're letting out all the air conditioning."
The next day, before I left home, I explained to my parents that to check-in during my bike ride I would ring the door bell. Two times slow, three times fast, pause, and knock, once. After a few laps, my parents emerged from our now efficiently cooled home to proclaim that check-ins were no longer necessary.
There were no fountains in our neighborhood though.
But here's a fountain at The Bosque in Battery Park, Lower Manhattan.
Photo and story by Tony Ruiz. To check out more of Tony's work, visit his instagram page at tonytypes.