My other bike is jealous.

I’ve ridden the Brompton almost exclusively since I got it. I don't have the luggage system yet because the shop had run out of them at the time that I bought the bike. So I’ve been using a backpack — not ideal, but functional. One day when it was too hot to wear a backpack and I needed extra tote space, I rode my old bike which has a rear rack and a basket. The feeling was similar to switching back to a car after you’ve grown used to riding a bike – like decadent excess. And its wheels felt so HUGE! So slow to go around! And the bike itself is such a TANK. So much squishier than the Bromp. Not so nimble. Like dancing with some clod in hiking boots.

In addition to all that, I was suddenly ordinary again. No admiring stares, no envious looks, no emphatic comments, no awe, no amazement, no show-off opportunities. No nothing.

I had thought all that would get old in a hurry, but it hadn’t yet.

All of a sudden I was a little brown mouse on a brown plain, whereas I’d gotten used to being a tropical bird in a lush emerald jungle.

I switched back to the Brompton the very next day.

This is awfully fun, but I may have completely ruined the other bike. I feel bad.

From A to B and back again

Ever notice how the more interesting life gets, the harder it is to find time to write it down? It's not for want of EVENTS that blogging has been sparse. Handlebars or not, the underlying theme remains: transporting ourselves, our loved ones, our animules, and our it-ems from A to B.

Upcoming stories:

• Trip to eastern Oregon results in increase in Portland’s cat population.
• Possible car death imminent, really this time.
• Research and shopping for foldable bike drawing to a close.
• Transit security censors bordello personnel riding on train.
  

See the world from an easy-chair

Here’s a photo I took on the well-tour of an amazing bicycle. This woman looked the most relaxed of anyone, and it wasn’t that she was going any slower. She got this bike at Coventry Cycle Works and loves it because “it doesn’t hurt my legs, it doesn’t hurt my shoulders, it doesn’t hurt my butt," and a few other places.

And because, though it looks like a “recumbent bike,” it really isn’t. I forgot why not, except that it isn’t low down like that – you’re still sitting up high enough for car drivers to see you. And you’re not pedaling with your hands.

I got her name but by the time I got home, the paper I wrote it on was all soggy and the ink had dribbled all over the paper and I couldn’t read it. But I’m pretty sure she said she worked for the water bureau, like a lot of people on that trip. I’ll alert the water bureau. Maybe she’ll write in with her name and more information on the bike.

One less item in the storage unit

Here's
Moto
posing
in the
corridor
of the
storage unit.

I finally did it – took my 1975 Motobecane Grand Touring over to Sellwood Cycles for them to sell for me. I could sell it myself, but I don’t feel like it. Besides, I’d heard that these guys are connected to all kinds of collector people, that’s why I took it there. I didn’t want to sell it to just anybody. Not that it’s a rare and sought-after collector’s piece, but it’s got some beautiful points, as you can see in the photos. For example, look at the way the tubing meets together, and look at the top of the forks.

This is the bike I rode from Eugene to Seattle on. I went by myself on an unplanned, ride-as-you-go, just-head-north ride for the solitary lunatic. I don’t regret it, but I would do it much differently today.

I also went on some other dumb rides – some dumb and bad, some dumb but good anyway. The bike never did fit me quite right, so I’m ready to let go of it.

Goodbye Moto.

A pedal-boat for use on land

Get a load of this wild Italian-made vehicle I came across a couple of days ago outside Irvington athletic club. Max came out as I was taking photos of it and gave me a demo while waiting for the rest of his clan. His family piles on and they ride to the pool/tennis club together. Makes a lot more sense than driving a car to another location for the purpose of getting exercise -- which seems to be what most people do.
My. Portland is coming along, isn’t it?