I do it every day now. Pack up a sandwich and some clothes and whatever else I need for my day in the venerable Timbuk2 bag, pull on some baggies and a jersey and my helmet, throw a leg over the Surly, and go. I'm riding fixed again now. I can't stand riding with a freewheel anymore. It just seems wrong.
Buffalo in May is a wonderful, wonderful thing. The weather is mild and slightly humid, breezy. Life is mellow, the air is sweet. I am spinning. The earth is spinning: on its axis, around the sun, precessing once every 22,000 years. I am spinning. I spin the fix languidly along the sleepy suburban streets, dodging the odd crazily careening SUV. Some idiot redneck in a huge truck makes like he's going to play chicken with me on his way out of the cul-de-sac. Yawn. I've seen way better. Spin. I cruise along in the cool morning air. It's nothing special. I'm just on my way to work. I do it every day. Daily bread.
I do it every day now. Pack up a sandwich and some clothes and whatever else I need for my day in the venerable Timbuk2 bag, pull on some baggies and a jersey and my helmet, throw a leg over the Surly, and go. I'm riding fixed again now. I can't stand riding with a freewheel anymore. It just seems wrong.
Buffalo in May is a wonderful, wonderful thing. The weather is mild and slightly humid, breezy. Life is mellow, the air is sweet. I am spinning. The earth is spinning: on its axis, around the sun, precessing once every 22,000 years. I am spinning. I spin the fix languidly along the sleepy suburban streets, dodging the odd crazily careening SUV. Some idiot redneck in a huge truck makes like he's going to play chicken with me on his way out of the cul-de-sac. Yawn. I've seen way better. Spin. I cruise along in the cool morning air. It's nothing special. I'm just on my way to work. I do it every day. Daily bread.
Put on some roadie gear (including mirror) and make it Daily Fred.
"Corvus Corvax" <[email hidden]> wrote in message news:[email hidden]...
Quoted message said:
I do it every day now. Pack up a sandwich and some clothes and whatever else I need for my day in the venerable Timbuk2 bag, pull on some baggies and a jersey and my helmet, throw a leg over the Surly, and go. I'm riding fixed again now. I can't stand riding with a freewheel anymore. It just seems wrong.
Buffalo in May is a wonderful, wonderful thing. The weather is mild and slightly humid, breezy. Life is mellow, the air is sweet. I am spinning. The earth is spinning: on its axis, around the sun, precessing once every 22,000 years. I am spinning. I spin the fix languidly along the sleepy suburban streets, dodging the odd crazily careening SUV. Some idiot redneck in a huge truck makes like he's going to play chicken with me on his way out of the cul-de-sac. Yawn. I've seen way better. Spin. I cruise along in the cool morning air. It's nothing special. I'm just on my way to work. I do it every day. Daily bread.
CC
Sweet, Will. We took a suburbia ride on our fixies last night, it was gorgeous out here on LI.
