
It started with a bike ride.
This morning I went to a Park for my usual ride — early summer, the air still cool, the path quiet. On the way, I started practicing English with an AI, just talking about small things: running routes, e-bikes, picking up my daughter from school. But the conversation kept drifting, the way conversations do when no one is in a hurry. By the end, we were talking about spaceships.
This is that conversation, turned into an essay. All in English — the words are simple, because they're the words I actually used.
I. Early Summer
Early summer is my favorite time of year. By now, all the annoying pollen and floating fluff from spring are finally gone, but the brutal heat of midsummer hasn't arrived yet. It's the perfect time to be outside.
Not every city is like this, though. Take Beijing. There's nothing good about Beijing — not in spring, when the wind carries sand and dust everywhere; not in summer, when it's too hot to go outside; not in autumn, when the frost comes early; and certainly not in winter. The whole year is an absolute disaster.
Although — I'll say this — the dog shit in Beijing freezes solid in winter. So at least it can't stick to your shoes. That's the one good thing about Beijing. The one good thing.
II. The Question My Daughter Asked
Yesterday, my daughter asked me: "What did you like most when you were a child?"
I said: fishing. When I was little, I loved going fishing more than anything.
Today she asked: "What do you want to do most now?"
I said: travel. Because you get to see new places and meet new people.
She's been asking me questions like these for a while now — if you could get anything, what would you buy? If you could go anywhere, where would you go? I ask her the same things back. I'm not sure when we started doing this, but it's become a habit between us, a small ongoing conversation about what we want from the world.
III. The Superpower Conversation
It was her idea to talk about superpowers.
"If you could have one superpower, what would it be?"
She said: invisibility. So nobody could see her, and she could sneak into a bank and grab some money. I asked what she'd do with the money. She said she'd buy a big house — so she could play hide and seek better.
That cracked me up.
I said invisibility too. But for a different reason. I'd want to disappear into a crowd, where nobody knows I'm there, and quietly observe people. Watch what they do. Maybe uncover a few secrets.
IV. Dream One — A Small Car, No Plan
If I had enough money, and the people I love no longer needed me — my responsibilities fulfilled, my family taken care of — what would I want most?
I'd get a modest little car. Nothing flashy. And I'd just drift.
No highways. Only country roads. No destination. Just drive. When I got tired, I'd find a small guesthouse and stay the night. And if I liked the place — the people, the light, the way the street smelled in the evening — maybe I'd stay for a month.
That's enough. That's the whole plan.
V. Dream Two — The Sailboat
If I had even more money, I'd buy a sailboat and sail around the world.
Talking to people in different countries. Experiencing different cultures. Going to the ends of the earth.
Chasing the horizon.
Until there's nowhere left to go.
VI. Dream Three — The Ship of the Imagination
I've been watching Cosmos: A Spacetime Odyssey — a science documentary hosted by the astrophysicist Neil deGrasse Tyson. In it, he travels the universe aboard something called the Ship of the Imagination: a vessel fueled by equal parts science and wonder, free from the shackles of space and time. It can shrink to any size, travel to any place, go to any point in history.
That's my ultimate dream. A ship like that.
I'd cling to one of the pillars in the palace hall and watch Jing Ke attempt to assassinate Qin Shi Huang — right there, up close, the dagger missing, the emperor running.
I'd position the ship near a dying star and watch a supernova explosion from a safe distance, the light of it washing over everything.
I'd travel back to the early Earth and watch life being born for the very first time — the first molecule that decided to copy itself, in some warm and ancient sea.
VII. Back to Now
But honestly — I still have responsibilities. I get seasick. And the spaceship feels a long way off.
So for now, I think I'll just buy an e-bike.
At least it makes it easier to take my daughter to the stationery store.
About this article
- Author
- Lerry
- Published
- 2026-06-16
- License
- CC BY-NC-ND 4.0