Some childhood passions shape your identity more quietly than others. Mine came with the faint smell of melting solder and a workbench scattered with resistors, capacitors, and wires that always seemed just a little too short. Those early experiments didn’t turn me into an engineer—but they left me with a lifelong appreciation for building things that actually work.
Read MoreSome childhoods are measured in school years or summer vacations. Mine could just as easily be measured in kilometers pedaled. My bike was my freedom machine—reliable, fast, and always in some state of disrepair.
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