We Rode Our Bikes Until the Streetlights Came On

There was one rule that mattered more than any other, and it didn’t come from our parents’ mouths so much as from the sky itself.

When the streetlights came on, you went home.

It didn’t matter where you were — three blocks over, at the park, halfway through a bike race you were definitely winning. The second that orange glow flickered on, the game was over. You’d pedal home as fast as you could, hoping you weren’t the last one in.

We rode until our legs burned, until the air got cool, until somebody’s mom stepped out on the porch and yelled a name. And we never wore helmets, never carried water, and never once thought about where we were going — only that we had to be back before dark.

Did the streetlights rule your neighborhood too, or did you have a different “get home” signal?