reconning

The last time I reconned a ride, it took me 4 hours and at least 5 miles out of my way. It was fun, in hindsight, but slightly mentally taxing. No ride buddy, no iphone, no extensive map, I was at the mercy of whoever happened to be passing by.
But yesterday I did manage to recon a ride; and recon a small part of a city as well. And with a good friend leading the way, all I had to do with pedal and follow.

And pedal I did. Too lazy to flip over my wheel, I did the 25 mile ride fixed - the first time I've done anything longer than 10 miles fixed in months. And with a light-as-a-feather Cyfac leading the way, I was struggling to keep up. But not mentally. So even though I complained liberally about my fixed gear status, I got to see a good part of the city from the saddle of my Bianchi, without the terrifying sense of getting very, very lost.

After a loop around Central Park [my first, ever, by bike], we headed back downtown to showers and food. And finally, at Habib's Place, I was able to keep up on the nom-nom-noming front, inhaling a falafel sandwich that was so good, I can't really remember what we talked about while I ate. Then, fat and happy, we strolled to Abraco for iced coffee and ricotta-filled pain perdu.

Time was taken to loiter/digest on the couch at NYC Velo, before more hanging out and coffee was consumed. More bike-related sites were reconned for future projects before I was led to dinner at Brick Lane. And giggling over my food [the way to my heart obviously being through my stomach], another late night in the city commenced. Ideas were bounced back and forth, slightly disturbing TV shows watched ["Intervention" and "Obsessed"], a rooftop visited, and a few hats finished before plans were made for the reason I'm here - the Bicycle Film Festival Street Fair this afternoon.

It looks like possibly bad weather, but I'll be at the NYC Velo table. Come get rained on with me, say hello, and recon a few bike films. It'll be fun, I promise.

a fuzzy city

On my way back down to NYC again today [for the Bicycle Film Festival Street Fair on Saturday - come say hello at the NYC Velo tent!], I'm simultaneously sort of glad I live in Boston.
And not only because riding downtown with an overstuffed Baileyworks bag and another tote bag half hanging off my handlebars is actually possible [even sans helmet, if I so chose].
It's because the establishments I frequent [other than the bike shops] might remember me once in a while, and not in that creeped out way. Which makes me feel all warm and fuzzy and loved inside. Okay, they just might be remembering a girl in crazy outfits, perpetually clutching a helmet, but they still remember.

It's only appropriate that I've recently achieved "regular" status at one of the two sewing/fabric stores I go to in Boston: Winmil Fabrics. Arguably the only fabric store left in Boston proper, it's no Mood, but remains a go-to for my basic lining fabric, thread, needles, etc. And, as an extra bonus, the husband-and-wife team behind the counter are definitely some of the nicer people in this city.
My purchases are usually fairly small - 3 yards of black fabric, a spool of thread - but I'll consistently be chatted up about my bike, where I go out riding, and if I have any more gears yet. On the topic of my lone gear, the owner stated:
"Well, I bet your legs get much stronger."
"Yeah, they're huge," I responded.
His wife laughed.

I love this kind of friendly banter. The kind that's only really possible in a small city if you're working on limited funds like I am. So even if I'm headed to glamorous NYC later this afternoon, I'm trying to keep my head on straight. Not crush on it too much. Not drool over all the places, people, and things to do in NYC while only seeing the limits of Boston.
Because, other than Tokyo, no other city has achieved warm-fuzzy-loved status with me. Yet.

capitalist communist

So maybe this whole idea was a bit like communist China.

Good in theory but didn't exactly work out as planned in practice.

I think my last two free hats are going out tomorrow...but that doesn't mean they won't be available anymore. People have expressed interest in getting a hat but I just can't seem to reach those people through a system of random distribution.

Which is why, like China, I just might be going capitalist. It seems like a fairly good system, you know, trading green sheets of paper with dead presidents on them for a handmade hat. Fully lined. Finished by hand. You'll want one, trust me. Sold on the idea yet?

If not, well, maybe you'll just have to see one for yourself. I've bribed someone to wear an s-class hat at the International Bicycle Film Festival. Apparently he'll be there all weekend. And if you see something you like, well, I like dead presidents.