The bike racks at my workplace (an urban university) are full of mysteries for me. Every day I see mostly the same bikes parked there (just a few in winter, lots in spring and fall; summer time is somewhere in between), but I hardly ever see the people that belong to the bikes. Such are the schedules at a university that people arrive and depart at various times throughout the day. As a result, the bikes seem to exist only there—inert, in the racks, detached from any human agency.
Friday, April 18, 2014
I always associate Good Friday with the beginning of the road cycling season. It’s a holiday and spring time—who wouldn’t try to get out for a ride on Edmonton’s post-glacial roads? But last night I was bummed. The forecast called for 5 cm of snow overnight with a chance of freezing rain. Road-riding was definitely out. That’s when I remembered: Hey, I own a fat bike! Thank you, Jesus!
Friday, April 11, 2014
I really need to get studlier. I’ve been thinking this for a while. Time, gravity, friction—they all take their toll. My wife hasn’t said anything, but I know she’s been thinking it too. I don’t mean “studly” in the chest-hair-muscle-mass-Sex-Panther-Viagra-Speedo-package way. I’m talking about the tires on my winter bike.