From a dream III:

Opening the front door of my childhood home I stepped outside into an icy, snowy, wintery neighborhood. The street it's self was covered in a thick translucent coating of ice. Undaunted I climbed on my bike. My bike was rusty and the tires were not pumped. I was determined to ride it. On the snow, on the ice, come what may. The first troublesome sign that this was not going to be a good ride was that my front tire rolled over the rim. A sign that there was little to no air in the tube. I rode on. I made it no further than the neighbor to the right. He was in his indoor front porch and called me over. I got off my bike. When I did this the handle bars came cleanly off from there affixed position. They had rusted enough for the tube of steel to be eaten through and rendered useless. When I went to move my bike from the street, the seat and seat post (both rusted) similarly came dislodged. I was then on the front step of my neighbor's house. There, he and his blind son sat. My neighbor (George) wanted to know if I knew who was placing B.M.'s on cardboard and sitting them on his steps. I told him I had no clue. George then informed me that his blind son was conversing on a computer specifically built for those who could not see. His blind son had made a friend through a network on the internet. George was so proud and happy for his son and continued to explain his adoration until I woke.