It started a long time ago. My parents have home movies of me riding my bike as a kid. When I first learned to ride, my method for stopping was to crash. They must’ve tried to teach me about brakes, but I wasn’t interested. After that I enjoyed tons and tons of great bike adventures. And by “adventures” I mean things like my 100-stitches-in-my-face bike jump, riding around as a kid in Germany and Italy, snow-riding (and falling) at Purdue, hailstorm riding, winter ice-riding (and falling), getting chased by a deer at dawn, Tour de Fat bike parades, obstacle course races on the roof of the parking garage at work on second-hand Barbie bikes, and of course, my daily commute on the Boise River Greenbelt.
The bike I rode to work and back for the past 5 years is named Blackey — short for Red-Winged Black Bike. At 10,000 miles, I put Blackey into semi-retirement this summer and bought the Bee. Short for Worker Bee.
Blackey near the Boise River
Blackey’s Wing
The Worker Bee
The Bee’s Wing
“Odometer” bike bell
