Sort of lost track of the back half of this week and I didn't realize that I didn't blog on Thursday, but it makes sense, since I spent some time Thursday after work buying and drinking cocktails at the new Passenger, which has moved a few blocks north on 7th. I got there via Bikeshare after getting home via Brompton and I got back from there via Bikeshare as well, but both of those were bonus rides that took place after the commute proper and might fall outside of the bounds of TFTS territory. (It's funny to set limits on a personal blog, which no one controls but me, but rules are important. Strictures matter.) The ride home was one where I doubled back before crossing the Ellington Bridge because I learned that my ANC commissioner would also be riding this way, so I headed up 29th Street to Cathedral Avenue to Woodley before linking up with her at the top of the hill and riding back down. This is the route of the 96 bus, the bus that sometimes takes me to work and a route these streets are truly amazing because you probably wouldn't ever ride on them unless you were willing to actually follow those signed bike routes signs, which always seemed a bit too on-the-nose for me to take seriously. 'Yeah, buddy, sure this is the way to Chevy Chase. Sure, but I'm gonna go this way,' I would say before taking a less direct way to not Chevy Chase, for example. Of note along this stretch of road is the Swiss Embassy. About this place, I have negative interest. That's a monetary policy joke. "Joke," I mean. There's also the Maret School. According to it's website, the Maret School was founded in 1911 by Marthe Maret, who was French Swiss from Geneva. It looks like a nice school and it seems to have capacious buildings and ample lawns.
Must've gotten to work on Thursday morning somehow, so let's assume it was by bike.
Friday morning saw me skip Coffee Club again (I'm sorry!) and from what I remember it was a quick ride in and there was gobs of cyclists on 18th. Just gobs of 'em. I keep expecting there to be more conflict around the Oyster-Adams School (a school named after our second President and our second favorite bivalve probably) but by the time I ride by, it's after drop-off, so I barely ever get to square off with a road raging parent. And here I am, studying krav maga for nothing. But seriously though, it's nice that there's little conflict there because I would hate that idea that I would come to dread it.
Friday afternoon was a later ride home because I had a reception at work (I'm halfway decent at receptions in that I can chew, talk, and manage to hold wine and canapes at the same time- this is no small feat and yet no one endorses me for it on LinkedIn, alas), but after that it was a straight shot down Mass to Garfield and then beyond. The Brompton performs well. Sometimes I wonder what would happen if I rolled over a marginally large stick or into a somewhat deep pothole with any pace, but I shouldn't wonder. One, it's bad luck to think about bad outcomes (ok, I just made that up, but that sounds plausible) and two, there's no sense wondering since the answer would be that I'd fall down. Small wheels are great, but I think they, in some cases, presuppose non-terrible roads, which is not always the case. Nevertheless, I think I'm going to keep riding it until the snow comes because it's the easiest to get in and out of the apartment and that counts for a lot.