“Let’s bicycle to Summerfest,” my husband said eight years ago, pointing out free parking and kicking off an annual tradition.
In 2015, my front tire bounced off a railroad track during the trip there. I tumbled to the asphalt head-over-handlebars, my dress twisted beneath me. As I lay on the pavement, I considered the question: Could I possibly turn around and miss Neil Young performing “Harvest Moon” live? Of course not! Sunglasses hid my tears as I wiggled through a Main Gate turnstile. A quick stop at First Aid and it was on to the Marcus, where I stood in the pit, with bruises and scratches on my knees and elbows, not to mention a pounding headache and pain in my ribs with each movement, for a nearly three-hour show.
The music healed.