Sir, I should have been honest. When you asked me where my button came from, I should have "It's mine. My name is Brian and I write a bike commuter blog called Tales From The Sharrows. It's about my daily commute. I made the buttons to sell to raise money for WABA," instead of telling you that they're from "some guy who blogs his bike ride. Yeah, it's called Tales From The Sharrows. Yes, Tales From The Sharrows." I really don't know what compelled me to fail to disclose the fact that I'm that guy and I feel pretty bad about it. On the off chance that you're reading this, send me an email (firstname.lastname@example.org) and I'll gladly send you a button as means of an apology for my erratic behavior. I don't know what possessed me to make up the story. Perhaps it was an unwitting homage to Mike Daisey.
Down Massachusetts and the smell of marijuana and an older guy walking on the sidewalk with an untied bowtie hanging off his collar. It was like an episode of Party Down. There are few places along my trip when I'm more concerned about colliding with a car than when the light at Cathedral and Massachusetts turn green and the single file line of cars begins to lurch forward and some drivers make the rightward movement to turn onto southbound Wisconsin Avenue. I've never even had a close call there, so I'm not sure why this particular intersection causes me so much angst. Maybe it's my worry about far too clever, T.S. Eliot fan newspaper headline writers were I to meet my demise there.
Traffic problems near Dupont Circle. For drivers.
I'm ready for the L Street cycle track, mixing zones and all. I need a break from Q. It's boring and harrowing at the same time. Borarrowing, if you will. At least on L there won't be parallel parkers, blocking the bike lane to wait for room to back into their desired parking spots. Ban street parking or allow below-market-rate on-street storage of other stuff. Like refrigerators. Or gas grills. Why should limit what kind of practical devices are allowed to be stored in public? I'd pay 35 dollars a year for a sticker to put some patio furniture on the street in front of my house. Or maybe a seesaw. Urban seesaw storage is rough. This will be my platform when I run for mayor. Seesaws 2012.
I might have gotten a bit competitive with a guy on a mountain bike on 11th street. He inched in front of me and then I sped past him and then he cut to the front of the queue while I waited and then I passed him on the left (maybe by riding in the wrong lane. sorry!) while he waited in queue. This was monumentally stupid.
Then I lied, then I biked up the hill and then I biked to the grocery store, where I purchased a baguette and some Newcastle. Kentucky Avenue seems like a prime location for sharrows.
[Fourth-ish wall alert: The Official Wife tells me there's an abandoned bike (locked) by the Foggy Bottom Metro. It's pretty. It's a green stepthrough with a wicker basket, currently housing an empty can of Natty Light and an old Starbucks cup. It's been there maybe a month. Can someone please rescue it? DDOT? MPD? What's the process whereby we can get this bike into the hands of someone who will actually use it? Is there a bike foster system? Anyway, the Official Wife has been keeping tabs on it and she wants it to find a forever home, like they do for puppies]
I had some trouble figuring out how to get back on my bike with a baguette sticking out of my pannier. I tried to swing my leg around over the bread, but that didn't work. Sacre bleu! And then I went around to the other side and did the same thing and I might've pulled something. Hazards of the bike commuter. Only boules from now on.
D to 15th to A. There was a line outside of the pretzel place. There was no line outside of the liquor store or dry cleaners or the carryout or the barber shop. People just love pretzels and hate alcohol and starched shirts and subs and haircuts, I guess.
Have a neat weekend. I'm gonna spend some of mine at Target.