10/16/12
Just 5 blocks away from home and my thighs are already burning. The tires didn't get checked before this ride, gonna be some drag there. Hands on the low handlebars, fingers off the brakes because we're going for speed right now. A tattoo-ridden hipster thinks he's faster than me and my bike, Shadowfax. Fat (gluten free) chance. Maybe his ear lobe rings give him an aerodynamic edge but that won't save him from the fury of my fiery stache. Each hair whistles in the wind while my lips purse, anticipating the pass. Quick glance behind, no cars. Time to kick it into gear but there's an x-factor missing. It's been a long day and I can't push past this poser without something. There it is ahead, star power. It lies in the bike lane pavement waiting for a worthy rider to unleash it's invincible rainbow speed power. Tobin-the-tatted over here is oblivious and passes the godsend, I turn to run over and absorb rainbow bliss. Cue star music, I'm flying. As I pump past he grunts in defeat. I make sure to keep my speed climbing once in front. His panting fades heavy with dismay. Ride on Shadowfax, we have much to do in this town.
However melodramatic that read, it's a glimpse into how serious the bike scene is in Ptown (and yes there is a road littered with MarioKart items on the bike lane). If only the automobile drivers would get a clue and drive like sentient beings I'd have no trouble on the road. As it is all the drivers seem to be daydreaming about yeast flakes and their next tattoo. Maybe it's because I'm from California and there's a bit of false urgency in our road style, or maybe it's because everyone here is out to lunch. Whatever the case, I've been tempted to honk too many times and am in need of an attitude adjustment.
Along with driving, there's a definite difference in public sentiment when you walk down the street. All the people you pass walk with an inexplicable ease to their step, like they've found Nirvana. The common Portlander wears a look of satisfaction that I can only imagine comes from eating a bowl of celestial hummus or 5 hours in the yoga. The rhythm here is almost cultish in its inaccessibility.
I'm trying my best to adopt the nuances in this mysterious zen swagger. Step 1, sleep in. My current cash flow is from nannying a high schooler so my work day starts at 2:30 or later. Step 2, facial hair. Got that covered. In fact the mustache really comes in handy when walking through Lake Oswego High to pick up my kid. Due to the fact that my height and weight distribution still mirrors that of a tall high school junior, the stache makes it clear that I'm not still a double undergrad but a bonafide sexual predator. Step 3, live through one doom gloom special. The rainy season.
People refer to it like the end of the Mayan calendar except that it's an annual affair. Luckily it's been held off until now (hence this belated post) because there has been an excellent Indian Summer. I for one am not worried about it, we got plenty of rain in Alaska and were forced to work in it. Here you can indulge in one of the millions of cozy nooks. It's impressive how damn snug one can get when it rains in Portland. That being written, I hope no rain gods are reading this and plotting the demise of my replacement laptop.
The transition has been smooth thus far and with each day it only gets better. I'm off to play some MarioKart and maybe practice some deep breathing. Until next time.
