This is video of me nearly getting slowly smooshed by a pickup truck at Station Square because the driver was ogling a woman on the sidewalk. I had to employ the brakes and verbal horn to get him to take his eyes off her and look where he's going.
Apparently, a blinky, a 50LUX headlamp and a bright orange/pink shirt are no match for the bewitching power that a nice pair of breasts has over certain drivers.
I knew it would happen one day: I would get whacked by the arm of a pedestrian that I was trying to pass who was engrossed in conversation and waving their arms about in semaphore fashion. Generally, I steer clear or hang back from these folks, they never hear a bell or an 'on your left' because their own conversations are the center of the universe and everyone and everything else pales. She jumped out in front of me and gave me a good whack on my forearm that smarted for about an hour, no bruises though. She apologized through her giggling and I just shook my head, rolled my eyes and went on my way.
I was surprised to have my skirt get caught in the rear brakes having ridden many miles in skirts much longer than this one. A hole was created where the skirt, tire and brakes all had a disagreement.
Bloomers and cycling: Cosmo Magazine was once relevant and poignant.
I think the last time Cosmopolitan Magazine had a worthwhile article was 1895.
I found the last paragraph particularly fitting and significant to today's cyclist.
"The woman who dons her knickerbockers and her gaiters and spins out into the open country, will find her mind opening to the wonders of sky and air, the beauties of the fields and streams; she will learn to take comfort in the world about her, will find her mind soothed and her spirits uplifted; she will forget troubles and anxieties, real or imaginary; she will become mistress of herself, as of her wheel, no longer a victim to hysterics, no longer seeking for unhealthy excitement, a rational, useful being restored to health and sanity."
¡Ay Dios mío, plátanos!!Conflict Kitchen recently switched the menu to Venezuelan cuisine. Oh. Mah. Gawd. Plantains!! There were fried plantains in nearly every dish on the menu! I love a good fried banana. I went over to Oakland after work to get me some pabellon criollo.
Really? They close at 6? ¡Dios, estoy estúpido! Alright, I'm going to try again later in the week and not lollygag on the way there this time. I need a fried banana in a bad way now.