… cyclists have the most vibrant experiences. They are the heroes of the post-war era. The people who lived with the American dream through the parcels from UNRWA. They wore loose trousers, colourful shirts and ties and jackets that were never the correct size, clothing of a finite fashion of 1935. It’s me. It’s us. We are these well-dressed young people who rented a bicycle and went to Vouliagmeni. And bicycles often decorated with thyme. Romantic images together. But why is it that when I looked at them I felt a transcendence. The cyclist was not a simple form of a young man, but a Pegasus with a red tie, ringing the bicycled bell as him road down the hill.
Source: k-m-autobiographies.blogspot.gr