Here's the kicker. We didn't wear helmets. We didnt wear tight biker shorts. We didnt wear gloves. We didnt wear spandex shirts. We just had a water bottle and went off. We had no direction, we just rode. Then we would ride back.
It was defensive riding. Going fast, to beat traffic, to watch for traffic, to avoid sewer covers and potholes. To manuever around cracks and rocks.
It was truly an adventure. One of my favorite things to do is ride with my camera...stopping and taking pictures of buildings, people, cars, landscapes, and street signs. I've got 30,000 photos of such things. I'm not sure what I'll do with them all, but I like that aspect of just knowing they are mine.
I don't make the time so much to ride, but I will this summer. I need to.
I wonder what kind of biker classification I would fall in? Casual? Fun? Defintely not serious. I drive through the park everyday and I see the Biker Mafia riding by in packs of 5 to 20. All serious. All thinking they are on the Tour De France. All in love with Lance Armstrong no doubt. All think they own the road.
I wish I could press a button and squirt water at them, or have a boxing glove spring out and punch them.
I admire the power and determination of those types of bikers. Yet at the same time I find them funny. Ever pull up to a car or a van of bikers ready to take on the road? They unload all of their gear, put their bike together. Put on the shades, their gloves, sunscreen, their tiny shoes, and multiple other equipment and gear. It's if they are going off to war. It's a big deal. It takes them 45 minutes just to get ready for a 30 minute ride.
Who has this free time?
Brad Ausmus
