Put me back on the bike

Walking across London Bridge last night, Luke and I witnessed the death of a cyclist, the seventh this year on the streets of the capital. I had only been saying to Luke five minutes earlier that I wouldn't want to cycle in London.
Police rushed to evacuate the area and close off the bridge, but as we walked past, I saw his bare feet, and his bike, which looked unscathed.
It was a beautiful evening, low soft sunshine reflecting off the City buildings. . So many things went through my mind - about how death can come so swiftly and unexpectedly, about the coming shock and grief of his family and friends, about the lovely evening he would no longer get to enjoy.
Of course, for us and everyone else who saw this, life goes on... we continued our journey and we will continue to ride our bikes, but I will never forget what I saw last night.
We watched the Men's cycle road race from a wet Glasgow this morning, went to church and then out for the day.
I saw this Harley and it is obviously someone's pride and joy. While I'm not really a a fan of motorbikes, I can appreciate the beauty of a well-made and well cared-for machine.