farmer's tans

"Nice tan you got going on there," Chris said as I casually walked into the mechanic's floor of IBC.
I knew the tank top was a mistake. You can clearly see how pale my shoulders are in comparison to my arms, and then that arm tan gets cut off into the glove tan around my wrists. As if the thigh-calf tri-tan wasn't enough. Now I'm starting to just look splotchy.
I was trying to nip the problem in the bud by going downtown in a sleeveless top that day. And sporting a clear farmer's tan, I obviously had to stop by the Copley Square Farmer's Market. From May to October, on Tuesdays and Fridays, vendors pitch tents and sell yummy, fresh produce, baked goods, and jams, meats, and cheese. Fridays last summer meant hopping on my bike to stuff my bag full of zucchini, corn, juicy tomatoes, and crisp bell peppers.

And it's not just the produce. I remembered a loaf of just-sweet-enough banana bread purchased last summer. It was huge, and took days to polish off; but it never dried out. I almost expected it to be too sweet, something that i'll eat in skinny slivers with several glasses of water. Instead, I nom nom nom-ed away at it in thick slices, consciously resisting its pleading to be eaten before, after, and in between meals.
Spotting that same banana bread, I remembered some people who would be on their feet all day, fixing bikes. People who will undoubtedly appreciate banana bread. Propping my bike up with a hip, I squeezed myself into Breadsong booth, I grabbed two - yes, two - loaves, and nestled them on top of all the other junk in my bag before I biked back out west. Biked towards my homes. All three.

The smaller loaf went to Pete and JT at Boston Bikes, then I made a brief stop at home [as in the place where I sleep] before heading to IBC. The nice weather meant that everyone there was working and swamped with customers. The bread was slipped on a side counter; nutrition for when busy friends can sneak in a mouthful of food between customers.

I almost regret not cutting a piece off for myself, but those loaves will be on display every Friday. And this year I'm rocking a Baileyworks that's way bigger than the small Chrome bag I was using last summer. Take that to its logical conclusion and you'll know where to find me on Friday evenings, between 5pm and 6pm.

hump de bump

I have 1.5 Boston winters under my commuting belt [I got my Bianchi in January 2008].
It doesn't make me any more hardcore, or special, than any other cyclist. But it's something I'm secretly proud of. It's also the reason I think Bicycle Commuter Appreciation Day should be in the middle of February, not in May. When your eyes and nose start to gush water as soon as you climb on a bike because of the cold, and the air's so dense you can't manage even a moderate pace without a struggle, well, that's when you should be appreciated.
But open houses, contests, and block parties are a different story. You need warm weather, good people, and a solid shop. And that's exactly what my other, other home - Cambridge Bikes - provided last night. Even food was involved.

Arriving a little late [as usual] and slightly completely confused, I stopped by a tent, bumped into RMM, and got suckered into entering my track baby into the Commuter Bicycle contest [believe it or not, I actually have commuted to school on my little pony]. There were a whole bunch of different categories, and tons and tons of bicycles. No way I was going to win anything, but hey, I got to park my bike next to a Vanilla, and that's a reward in itself.
Bouncing between the shop and the party outside, I spotted some distinctive white and black kits and shaven legs. And tricycles. I couldn't miss this.

The camera came out and I was laughing hysterically as some of CB's finest raced tricycles in kits and cleats. It seemed addictive, as more and more people signed up to spin around the makeshift course three times. I nearly got seated on one of those things, but used the excuse that I'll have an unfair advantage over everyone because those tricycles would probably fit me.
Slipping inside, "what's up"s and high fives were exchanged, despite the packed shop. Both familiar and unfamiliar faces filled the shop, and sort of in limbo, I ended up leaning against the end of the counter, in that happy medium between customer and employee. Between snapping more pictures, I caught up with Pete, Jason, and Zach while commuters as diverse as the bicycles outside milled about curiously.

It was dark before I knew it, which meant that I learned how to open the plastic packaging of a Knog light [throw it against the floor]. And just when I was about to head out, the call that awards would be announced was made. It was probably the new CB cycling cap [designed by Croth, and handed to me by Kip himself] that did it. Or maybe my luck's just turning. Because I did end up winning something:

Or, a few things. All things pointing to more bike rides. Matching green CB socks with Pete? Check. CB water bottle that I've been wanting for a while? Check. Massive bag that I could probably carry my sister in? Check, check, check!
Winning stuff also apparently meant pictures had to be taken. Natasha snapped away while Croth pulled a sneaky from-behind pic [justifying it by claiming that "that picture didn't include that much of your ass"]. All pictures which will undoubtedly eventually surface on the Internet. So, a disclaimer: I am constantly sweaty, disheveled, and un-photogenic. You've been warned.
[Big thanks to everyone at CB for putting this on - it was awesome! More pictures from the open house/block party here.]

bike shop christmas

As per the usual morning routine, I grabbed my eyeliner pencil yesterday morning, unsheathing the magic black wand that helps accentuate the eyes that I don't have. One eye squeezed shut with the accompanying eyebrow raised, hand poised, leaning in towards the mirror...
I stopped. Who was I going to need this for? The exam proctor???
The pencil got capped and tossed back into my make up bag. Besides, I figured that looking absolutely haggard would keep me from hanging out anywhere on the way home.
I should have known better. I mean, I do know better...but despite my age, I'm still recovering from junior-high-nerd-status and can't resist the opportunity to hang out with the cooler kids. Bags under my eyes, skull still freshly throbbing from the effects of a tax law exam, sweaty from being overdressed for the warmer afternoon weather, and with no eyeliner on, I bounced into Cambridge regardless.

And found that not only were all the cool kids working there yesterday, so was the infamous [and slightly intimidating] Mr. Croth. I got to bask in his vicarious cool for a grand total of five minutes before he jetted off in those rocking red gloves and the giant Ortlieb bag that was made to smuggle small children into the country. Meanwhile, customers came and went, Jason had his nose buried in paperwork and I started to feel bad skipping around and just being in the way.

Until, of course, Dan came in from the service door, announcing a shipment of bike goodies that Pete described was "as big as a Christmas tree." And indeed it was. There were countless boxes of...everything. Taped and tied together, then wrapped in a plastic cocoon, all it was missing was a big red ribbon. It was like Christmas morning; for once, the bags under my eyes and general haggard appearance seemed appropriate for the occasion. And with the energy born out of unexpected surprises, I pitched in a hand, carrying and ripping open the plethora of boxes.

It was awesomely fun...the best part being that I didn't even have to clean up or organize the huge pile of everything. I left two hours later, secure in the knowledge that Cambridge is currently fully loaded with pretty much everything I happen to currently need. Tubes in every size imaginable? Check. Wicker baskets? Check. Freewheels? [Yes, freewheels.] Check. Cookies? Probably.
Well, okay, maybe they're not stocking any mini road bikes with my name written all over it. But I'm working on that. Maybe, hopefully, for Christmas.