(which, to my shame, I haven’t done in over a year) and I saw this guy pushing a bike up that big hill (coming around the northwest corner of the park). First I thought it was a moped. Then I realized what it really was: a old sparkly-blue bananna-seat Schwinn with a jury rigged pimped-out…
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Oh, Portland, Oregon, Damn you! I’m sick of reading how cool Portland is. If you love Portland so much, why don’t you move there? Besides, I’m quite fond of Portland, Maine, thank you very much. And I like hot summers and cold winters. And I don’t want to live in place filled with smug white…
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Alas, as feared, Mr. Astoria Bike slept through the first Summer Streets. Mr. Astoria Bike is not an early riser. In fact, I was thinking of going to Summer Streets to watch the beginning. But at 7am, I figured there wasn’t much to watch. And bed was a much better option. Streetsblog, on the other…
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This story from the Times.
This Saturday! One night only! You, on the bike! Actually, it’s not one night. It’s three days. I just like saying anything from the Blues Brothers. Like in case you’re wondering how often the N train rumbles by my house… duh!!!: So often you won’t even notice. Bet you didn’t know that John Belushi is…
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Sometimes I just reprint NYC Bike Snob: Some people are actually so stupid that they think horns make things happen. They actually believe their car comes with a magic button in the middle of the steering wheel that can change reality. Suddenly, I became aware of the constant chorus of beeping all around me–the kind…
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It’s not my wording. It’s theirs.
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