today was lovely out. so lovely the thought of letting the tail pipe of the 16v GTI blow yuckos on the bikes around my fair city just seemed insane, even criminal. also, I knew in the end it would be an adventure. my commute to work would involve me seeing fallen leaves, community members, the dog on leash declaring Portland America's #1 dog city, and all the nooks and crannies that make Portland so special if I traveled on one of the growing # of steeds in the garage and basement.
I brought my new timbuk 2 messenger loaded with the essentials for the day. work papers, refillable container of water ( I almost never buy bottled anymore), wallet, extra rain lacket, and a lime green safety vest like constuction workers wear for my evening commute home.
Old homes and bungalows create a smile on my face after riding through our nearby park... always is a pleasure to my senses.
Biodiesel VWs with "Keep Portland Weird" stickers displayed off 26th and Clinton.
Chrome bags strapped to the backs of those in the know that they live in a special place.
The roses of Deb's fave hood "Ladd's Addtion" take the Pleasantville experience to new heights on my way to the Hawthorne bridge to make my way alon with many like commuters on various old Schwinns, custom bikes, and Specialized Sirrus models to our jobs.
Crossing this bridge was my Mary Tyler Mor moment upon 1st moving here over a year ago. Somehow that feeling never subsides.
I am home.
If only other like friends from the less than desirable place I once lived in could find the way.
Welcome to my heavenly place.
On the Max train that I pay a buck seventy to get to the station of Baverton where my "for now" job is located, I contemplate how cool it is that I can take visiting friends on bike rides to downtown from Woodstock and take the train to Washington Park and to use my membership to get into the OR Zoo. Not a bad day to have.
All isnt always perfect. In Beaverton ( a little piece of hell to most in Portlandia ) has less than ideal biking grounds and lacks very many bike lanes. After the work day I ride home and fall on some railroad tracks that I couldnt really avoid. rip a pair of 10 year old Diesel Jeans purchased on clearance in Los Gatos at a upper class men's clothing store that failed to sell $100 jeans. At the price of Levi's for $40, I got my value out of them and they were just starting to wear thin in the crotch. All the perfection needs a wake up call at time I SUPPOSE. Hurt though! Luckily no broken wrists. Just lost some dignity...
I feel awesome from the 12 or so miles ridden today. the train ride back beofre cruising home over the Hawthorne bridge involved a woman cyclist speaking to a mother and 2 yr old of how she cannot wait to go biking with her dauhter in a few more yrs. For over 10 minutes this conversation lasted. I cannot imagine San Jo being so real.
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