Photo Friday: Spontaneous.

In the afternoon? All day! LOL

Oh, well. If you’re going to have a reputation for something, it could be worse. Much worse.

I blame the tons of good coffee places within a five minute walk of my office, even more within ten minutes. But on the same note: Baltimore has a lot of good coffee shops around mid-town/Central Baltimore. Oh, dang. Poor me.

I finished a big project at work yesterday with a remarkable amount of sanity left.  So I am feeling very boastful this morning.  This is my “title” instead of “hubby.”  It’s more bubbly.

Photo Friday: The Extraordinary.

It’s a bee-otch. I have been having a lot of tire trouble lately. Or, maybe, I’m just riding more and getting more flats. I officially blame the Jones Falls Trail, particularly the part under the Howard Street bridge. Of my recent flats, three were caused by glass from right there. And after my recent adventures, I’m rocking Kevlar-belted tires. That didn’t help yesterday when three huge slivers of glass that looked like quartz stems stabbed my tire. I came out from work and suspected someone was messing with my lock and noticed my rear flat. I didn’t feel like patching, so I put my spare tube on. Those tires are pain to get back on, so it took a bit for me to figure out the trick. I was running low on air, so I stopped to put some air in when I got to the trail and realized why: busted valve stem. While I was examining this, some dickhead wizzed by me on his bike without a word, bell, etc. (I hope your trunk bag fell in some mud, wanker.)

What’s up with the rude cyclists lately? Are they pissed that they have to ride because of gas prices or something? I mean, I love the greater number of cyclists. But there was a time when most of the people I passed greeted me back or even first. You know: last year!

Anyway, I went to some shade to patch my tube after taking off this new and busted tube. Some old guy came over and silently watched my work. Told me I have a nice bike. That I should get some tire strips and that I would have payed less for my bike at the bike shop he likes. I didn’t feel like getting into how tire strips rub and then cause flats, how the price of my bike did not differ (in fact) from the different Giant dealers in the Baltimore area in October 2006. I just finished, thanked him for his company with a handshake and went on my way.

I was stupid enough to try to plug the hole in my tire tread with rubber cement. Did a number on the rest of the rubber. I think it’s Okay for a while. But I patched the inside of the tire, ordered two spare tires and some more spare tubes — just in case. Overhauled my brakes last night, too. Replaced my front pads, which were doing a number to my rims. Poor things.

I rode a different way to work this morning, avoiding my usually sylvan ride in favor of riding through traffic the whole way. In some respects, I like it better. Though I’m probably upping my chances of getting hit. When I was on the Maryland Avenue bride this morning, I turned around and saw four other cyclists riding to work and school. Five bikes on that little bridge at once!

Biking in Baltimore is coming around.

Photo Friday: Relationship.

For Photo Friday: The Machine.

This is, of course, very tongue in cheek. I just thought, you know, it might be more interesting than a photo of my bike. I’m not going to join some sort of revolutionary force to overthrow the government. Totally not. Honest. Come on, it’s funny. Right? Not me — I’m gentle and fuzzy. Huggy, too. Half of my family works for the Gubbmint. Don’t call the fuzz please.

One of my favorite shirts has long since rotted off of my shoulders from being worn so much. It was a Rage Against The Machine shirt in white, with a photo of nuns with guns. It was awesome. I never got enough compliments on it. I had a The Clash shirt on last year at Wholefoods, and a middle-aged guy who probably went to see them in person when I was a wee lad gave me a nice compliment. I was stoked. Compliments are good.