when my bicycles engine sputtered out...

...i rode at fever pace, fast like a virus, "quick like a bunny", peddling my words like wares, fast, through weaved wet noodle electric brain, remnants of deep-like discussions of the accuracy of captured instances in haiku, or the quality of fictious people at toll-booths, and it dawned on me, while awaiting the signal overlooking the intersection, that for a moment i thought my bicycle was vibrating as if it had an engine, and that it had just sputtered its last breath, but then i realized bicycles have no engines per se' (mechanical ones anyway, or at least this particular model does not). Then i thought of the chance that maybe it was telling me i had sputtered, like me being the force which enacted the propelling of its gears and such was maybe not sufficent enough for it and it required more gusto, or perhaps it wanted an owner with more automatically mechanical qualities. This I can not so sufficiently provide, however i did also realize my predictability in that instance because i was on my way home directly after school.