Of all of the impressionists, I think my favorite is the guy from Police Academy. The impressionists, as we're all aware, were very much concerned with light and/or funny noises and this morning would have made for a terrible work of impressionism because there wasn't very much light, as it was crowded out by a clouding out. There was also rain, which wasn't freezing. being an optimist, I prefer to think of it as melted snow anyhow. Work started later than usual and I left the house at 10 and by then the roads were fine and the bicycling riding was no different from normal, unfreezing, rain riding.Roads were wet and still salty. On the bright side, there certainly won't be any slugs in the bike lanes come spring.
East Capitol, Pennsylvania, 15th and R. I ride these roads so often, I'm sort of hoping for a TFTS Heritage Trail to be established in my honor. Or, I would, if I suffered from delusions of grandeur. I instead only suffer from delusions of grand pianos and, like the saying goes, if you Chopin in the first act, you have'll have to use it by third.
There's a box in my closet in which I keep my winter bike "stuff" and I've until today completed neglected to look through it. Big error on my part. Lots of really useful stuff in there (Franklin stoves, snow shoes, yeti repellent) and I'm glad I've gotten to it before February. Wish I looked through it months ago.
Stopping in the rain, just stopping in the rain
What a marvelous feeling, I'm skidding again
To download the rest of my Singing in the Rain lyrics-replaced-with-biking-things album (including "Make Em Crash," "Fit as a Fixie," and "You Are My Lucky Car"), please contact my agent, who happens to be a toy poodle.
It feels like my ride doesn't actually start until I get to the base of the hill on Massachusetts. The first few miles just don't seem to count. Does anyone else's ride start when you're nearly at work? It's curious.
I found myself stuck in Ward Circle today and I weaved through some cars and jumped a red light and I regret nothing.
The sensation on the ride home was an interesting one in that it was pleasant and unadulteratedly carefree and fun. I blame it on the not rain. It also wasn't cold. The only things bike rides need to be to be perfect are for some things to not be. It's like Buddhism, basically.
Massachusetts to 21st to L. I rode conscious of the metal plates and metal grates and manhole covers and other things that dot our roads in a way that I find unfathomable. My worst of all bike crashes, the one that required stitches under my chin, came from my riding over a metal grate in the rain and since then I've been quite wary of them. I encourage you to do the same.
Blaming bike lanes for traffic is like blaming foreign aid for the national debt. That's trenchant bike and political analysis. Two-for-one deals all day here.
Perfect ride on L Street. I biked a perfect, as all the cool kids say. Ok, no one but me says this, but if cool kids would like to adopt this phraseology, that'd be something. Then I would be the progenitor of some hip new slang and maybe they'd build me a statue (underwritten with "Progenitor of "Biking a Perfect") and put that statue along the TFTS Heritage Trail. There will be deluges of grandeur if the drains are blocked when it rains.
11th Street, Pennsylvania, Capitol Hill and East Capitol. Then, Kentucky Avenue to the grocery store. I thought about all the rights and responsibilities that I have that are allegedly the same as all of the drivers next to me. Sure don't feel the same.
Grocery store saw kale and chorizo and potatoes added to my bag for the trip home and it was an easy couple of blocks riding after setting off again. Good ride, happy ride and good riddance to all of you, assuming riddance has something to do with bike riding, which I'm not sure it does.
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