Ride Home 2/8: f(x)= illiteracy

If anyone thinks that he or she has cracked the code of the subtitles, please let me know because I'd love to know what it is. You could probably save me countless dollars of money otherwise spent on therapy "unlocking" my id.
Meanwhile. back at the blogging factory, here's what I've got. I don't know how/why people bike in their street clothes. I wore khakis on the ride home and the rain got them and I was quite miffed about the whole thing. Maybe some people are just ok with wearing wet clothes? Not me, though. This is America and I demand to be comfortable at all times, in spite of the fact that I'm riding a bicycle in the rain.
On Mass, by Waterside, the driver of a Mini Cooper tried to merge into my lane, even though it was quite clear that I was occupying it. I gave him a Mutumbo finger wag, becuase I am, in real life, quite badass. (Note: in real life, I am not badass. )
I anticipated not being able to remember this ride, as I stopped half-way through and that's normally a good way to ensure that I won't be able to recall what happened, so I decided to email myself some notes as I hit various stopping points along the way. The first two were "wet pants" and "Mutumbo" and I feel like I've adequately explained those. The next two were "honking" and "taxi," which I'm a little less sure about. "Honking" I'll just assume has to do with someone honking at me. Big surprise. Some people are impatient. "Taxi" I remember a little bit better, since I recall a taxi driver making an ill-advised u-ish turn through and into the 15th street cycletrack, in order to go from driving north to driving south. I slowed down when I passed the driver, but I'm not sure that would have prevented him from reversing into me. The cyclist behind me, who might have been a local indigent, seemed rather miffed at the taxi driver's behavior and my welfare vis-a-vis the driver's lack of concern. I think he cussed, even.
A rare excursion down 15th and I stopped at all of the various stop lights which prove inconvenient in the evening. Then H to 13th-ish, where I locked up to meet some awesome people at Cafe Mozart. You know what they sell at Cafe Mozart? This:
Best Hungarian salami (a legjobb magyar szalami)
And this:
Musli (muszli)
Anyway, some food nostalgia.
But the purpose of the trip to Mozart was to meet up for some beers with some #bikeDC people and it was a good time all around. I've yet to be disappointed by meeting people from Twitter in real life and I don't know if it's because I have especially good taste in Tweeps or whether it just happens that when people coalesce in virtual space around common interest, that it turns out that when they coalesce in real life that they're equally compatible.
After I left, it was a relatively straight shot home. I took 13th, aka the Poor Man's 11th (ok, no one has ever actually deemed this, but it's mostly accurate) to Penn and up Penn to past the Capitol. And then, on the east side of the Capitol, I was lucky enough to run into Erik of Bicycle Space, ever so distinctive on account of his beautiful Pashley. I don't want to spoil anything, but the new BicycleSpace is going to be awesome. Just absolutely, freaking amazing. It was also just nice to see someone you know on the ride home. DC is a really small town sometimes.
The rest of the ride home was fairly quaint, if not a little boring. I guess, all things considered, I'd rather have boring and predictable to grave and dangerous, but you know. By the time I got home, it had stopped raining. This winter is pretty much lame. Bring on spring already.


  1. Saw you again, this time on 15th. You didn't look terribly happy. I promise I will actually say something next time. And yes, wet pants suck. So do wet Vans and wet wool socks and wet gloves.

  2. I was wearing regular clothes-- I could have brought my rain pants, but I wasn't paying attention to the forecast. (shakes fist at sky)