Ginger had been waiting all morning for the road to call her. Her bicycle leaned against the side of the house, its handlebars turned slightly as if it were already pointing toward somewhere interesting. Ginger had nowhere she was supposed to go, which made the possibilities seem even better.

She climbed onto the seat, pushed off with one foot, and began pedaling. At first, she stayed on the familiar road near home. She knew every mailbox, every driveway, and almost every dog that might come running to a fence to bark at her. But when she reached the corner where she usually turned around, Ginger didn't turn around. She kept going.

The houses grew farther apart. Soon there were open fields on both sides of the road, with wooden fences running along them. A few horses lifted their heads as Ginger rode past. One trotted along the fence for a while, and Ginger pedaled faster, pretending they were racing. “You're winning!” she called. The horse probably already knew that.

Farther down the road, Ginger came to a place she had never noticed before. A narrow dirt lane disappeared between two fields. There was no sign telling her where it went, and that was enough to make Ginger curious. She turned onto it.

Her tires crunched over dirt and little stones. The smooth ride became bumpy, and Ginger had to hold tightly to the handlebars. She bounced over a rut, swerved around a rock, and laughed when the bicycle nearly shook her teeth together. The lane twisted through tall weeds and patches of sunflowers until Ginger could no longer see the road behind her.

For the first time, she wondered how far she had gone. She stopped and listened. Everything was quiet except for insects buzzing in the weeds and the ticking of her bicycle wheel as it slowly stopped turning. Ginger looked behind her. The lane didn't look quite the same from this direction.

“Well,” she said, “that's not good.”

She could turn around immediately. That was probably what she should do. Instead, Ginger noticed a hill ahead. It wasn't a very big hill, but from the top she might be able to see where she was, so she began pedaling again.

The hill was steeper than it looked. Ginger pushed hard on the pedals, leaning over the handlebars. Halfway up, she was breathing hard. A little farther, her legs began to ache. “I am not walking you,” she told the bicycle. The bicycle didn't seem concerned, so Ginger pushed harder.

At last, she reached the top and stopped. From there she could see everything. Fields stretched below her in great squares of green and brown. Far in the distance she could see rooftops and trees, and beyond them the mountains rested beneath the enormous blue New Mexico sky. There, winding between the fields, was the road that would take her home.

“I knew where I was,” Ginger announced.

She hadn't.

Then she looked down the other side of the hill. The dirt lane dropped steeply before curving at the bottom. Ginger's eyes widened. Going up had been work. Going down looked wonderful.

She pointed the bicycle toward the slope and pushed off. Within seconds, she was flying. The wind pulled at her shirt and tossed her red hair behind her. The tires rattled over the dirt, and Ginger's feet spun faster and faster with the pedals.

“Wheeeee!”

Then she saw the puddle.

It stretched across nearly the entire lane. Ginger grabbed the brakes, and the back tire slid sideways. For one wild second, Ginger, the bicycle, and the laws of gravity all seemed to disagree about what should happen next.

Then they hit the puddle.

Muddy water flew everywhere. Ginger came out the other side still upright, soaked from her knees down and splattered with mud almost to her freckles. She coasted to a stop and sat there for several seconds, looking at herself.

Then she began to laugh. She laughed until her stomach hurt.

The rest of the ride home was slower. Ginger found the main road and followed it back toward the familiar houses and mailboxes. By the time she reached her own yard, her legs were tired, her shoes squished when she walked, and a streak of dried mud ran across one cheek.

She leaned the bicycle against the house exactly where it had been that morning and looked at it. That bicycle had taken her past everything she knew, down a road she had never traveled, up a hill she almost couldn't climb, and straight through the biggest puddle she had ever seen.

Tomorrow, Ginger decided, she would stay closer to home.

Probably.

Then she noticed another little road in the distance that she had never ridden down before. Ginger looked at the road, then at her bicycle.

She smiled.

Maybe not.