There’s something about the sound of bike tires on pavement that instantly takes me back to my teenage years in St. Maarten. Back then, my bike was my ticket to freedom—no car, just two wheels, racing through quiet streets, chasing sunsets, and discovering little hidden spots. I’d spend afternoons playing beach volleyball with my friends until the sun dipped below the horizon, the salty breeze mixing perfectly with the fading light. Fast forward to now, here in Providence, with spring finally warming things up, I’m back on my bike, feeling that same rush of freedom all over again. 

The path itself is like a mini time capsule, filled with vintage spots that transport me to a simpler time. First, there’s a pink sign pointing to “The Perfect Sweet Shop” on Joyce Street, promising ice cream and macarons—instant kid-at-heart vibes. It feels like stepping into a ’50s movie, where corner shops were buzzing with kids clutching coins, ready for a sweet treat. Then I spot “The Muchachos,” a food truck with a bright mural of two cartoon guys in sombreros. The colors pop against the green grass, and it reminds me of old roadside diners where travelers swapped stories over tacos and laughs. Next up is Del’s Lemonade, parked by a little shop with a lemon-yellow sign. The slogan, “It’s Refreshingly Different!” and the classic look takes me back to slow summer days, sipping Lemonade on a porch swing.

These spots aren’t just fun photo ops—they’re little time machines that remind me how creativity can come from simple, joyful moments. Stepping away from my screen to capture these scenes gives me a fresh perspective and sparks ideas I just can’t find sitting at my desk.

As the sun sets, I find myself in a place where the path is lit up with string lights hanging from trees, casting a warm, cozy glow. Nearby, the Dari Bee ice cream stand with its swirling cone sign invites a moment of nostalgia. The lights reflect off the path, creating a kind of magic tunnel—a perfect little creativity portal. It’s in moments like these—surrounded by nature, the ocean’s hum, and local charm—that I feel most alive. The noise of the year fades away, and new ideas start buzzing in my head, all because I stepped outside and let the world inspire me.

For me, these bike rides aren’t just about exercise—they’re a lifeline to inspiration. Whether I’m snapping a photo of a heron standing still in the shallows or checking out a street artist’s latest mural, biking through Providence reconnects me to the world around me. And it’s a good reminder: when life gets stuck, just keep moving, keep looking. The next spark is always just around the corner.