I like bikes. But it takes a bit, a little something, to get my attention. Working at a nonprofit bike shop and sorting endless piles of donated bikes built up my immune system to disregard most bike stuff. This cute little red stem got my attention. As short as a stem can be and still be a stem. Then the ad hoc slap dash Sun Bum mud guard made me smile. Wedged parsimoniously between the seat stays, its effectiveness largely psychosomatic. If perception is reality, it’s the thought that counts.
Shit like that gets my attention. Like the experimental nuclear physicist that rides a hoopty bike to the lab with gerry-rigged homemade mudguards fashioned from a FedEx box. Or the oceanography undergraduate with the expensive shiny new gravel bike “secured” outside with a beefy Abus lock looped only through the quick-release front wheel. Or the famous atmospheric science professor weather blogger that rides in to work with his hose-clamped milk crate.
the crow, sitting on the Surly, talking shit…
…hose-clamped
milk crate
douche bags
expecting respect
from
bungee-corded
pickle bucket
Dexter Ave warriors
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