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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

Blackey’s Wing


The Worker Bee

The Worker Bee


The Bee's Wing

The Bee’s Wing



“Odometer” bike bell