Today I rode my mountain bike; she is a joy to ride and doesn’t get out as much as I’d like. I ride mostly in the city, in part because it does seem a little silly to drive to a trail head and in part because riding trails can a bit harder on the knee which I injured mountain biking. Still, there is nothing like riding in the woods where there are no cars and the trail twists and turns, and there are roots and rocks and slugs. Well, there really isn’t anything like riding in the woods.
So today I rode my mountain bike around town—and believe me—some of our roads are much better on a full-suspension bike. I wanted to take a picture of some of the potholes on my street, which could double as a small garden and the spots where the original brick layer is showing. They were all filled with water from yesterday’s rain here is a picture of what I sometimes think would be fun to do to the deepest ones:
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| The Pothole Gardening of Steve Wheen. |
You may have noticed that my bike is pink. And, I named this blog “stop with the pink” so I thought I would explain. Basically, I don’t much care for pink except for on the beautiful flowering trees around town right now. Also, I do not understand why manufacturers seem to think that if they make thing (such as bicycles) pink, then women will want them. So, stop with the pink.
When I was shopping for my mountain bike, I had the choice of paying a lot of extra money to get the beautiful white one or getting used to a color I’ve never liked. So that’s why my beautiful mountain bike is not only pink, but has pink linkages. It’s taken a few years, but I don’t really see the color any more. And, I thought it might be less likely to be stolen because who could take a pink mountain bike seriously? Color aside, she rides like a dream.
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