Rode the single speed through the neighborhood towards dirt.
Got passed by a 70ish year old lady named Mary. She was on a steel Colnago, and training for her second cross country bike tour. She rode the northern route last time, and is planning on doing San Diego to Miami next year. Mary is the definition of "bucket of whoop-ass".
(And thou shalt not give me shit about being passed by a 70ish year old woman. A- Like I said, I was on a single speed mountain bike, spinning 32x18. And B- Mary had her head down pushing the big ring. I'm lucky to have been able to hang on long enough to chat for a while.)
Shortly after Mary dropped me, I hit the trail. I whooped. I hollered. I took pictures. I broke my chain.
Got passed by a 70ish year old lady named Mary. She was on a steel Colnago, and training for her second cross country bike tour. She rode the northern route last time, and is planning on doing San Diego to Miami next year. Mary is the definition of "bucket of whoop-ass".
(And thou shalt not give me shit about being passed by a 70ish year old woman. A- Like I said, I was on a single speed mountain bike, spinning 32x18. And B- Mary had her head down pushing the big ring. I'm lucky to have been able to hang on long enough to chat for a while.)
Shortly after Mary dropped me, I hit the trail. I whooped. I hollered. I took pictures. I broke my chain.
I fixed it.
Whooped and hollered some more.
Saw a Mojave rattlesnake.
Whooped and hollered some more.
Saw a Mojave rattlesnake.
Sliced a side wall so bad that all the gel packets, boot kits and spare tubes in the world couldn't fix it.
Started walking. Was offered help by every mountain biker I saw.
Started walking. Was offered help by every mountain biker I saw.
Ducked off trail into a neighborhood of million dollar homes.
Was offered help by a man and wife riding cargo bikes.
Was not offered help by the 7,000 triathletes sporting aero helmets.
Was greeted by a guy sitting in a lawn chair under a tree. He offered me a beer and a spare tire. I accepted the beer and politely declined the tire. It was a beautiful morning, and I was in no hurry to get to work.
Had another beer.
Took a tour of the guy's garage and admired his immaculate collection of carbon whiz bang bikes.
Had another beer.
Thanked the guy again, and finished my walk to work.
Took a picture of my shadow on the sidewalk, and said, "Know what, Gypsy's shadow? A bad commute to work is still better than not getting to ride at all."
Was offered help by a man and wife riding cargo bikes.
Was not offered help by the 7,000 triathletes sporting aero helmets.
Was greeted by a guy sitting in a lawn chair under a tree. He offered me a beer and a spare tire. I accepted the beer and politely declined the tire. It was a beautiful morning, and I was in no hurry to get to work.
Had another beer.
Took a tour of the guy's garage and admired his immaculate collection of carbon whiz bang bikes.
Had another beer.
Thanked the guy again, and finished my walk to work.
Took a picture of my shadow on the sidewalk, and said, "Know what, Gypsy's shadow? A bad commute to work is still better than not getting to ride at all."
My shadow did not answer.
Punk rock is as punk rock does,
Gypsy
Punk rock is as punk rock does,
Gypsy
