jinriki-riki-riki-riki-riki-sha

I am not an expert cyclist. Well, yes, my thighs are pretty powerful, and thank you. But I really don't know what I'm doing on a bike. Too tentative by half. And I'm not adept at changing gears. If you asked me what gear I usually ride in, I would probably want to hit myself several times from shame of not knowing. And I would want to say "shame" when I did it.

I only recently learned that my bike is in fact dark green, and not black. And I still so don't care. With some people, if you haven't forged the bike yourself, smelted the spokes, vulcanized the tires (right?), repurposed some antique elkhorn or other as a handlebar, you're not serious enough. I got my bike repaired last month, and learned that my bike has cassettes. I'm sure some velophile (a velophile is someone who gets sexual excitement from eating bicycles) has taken the cassettes out of their bike and put in 7-inch vinyl. Reel-to-reels. 8-tracks? Okay, it isn't funny with any of them. But I'M TRYING.

Now I have to learn how to do this. I'm forgoing the bus pass this month, saving money. Isn't that fucking sad, when someone can't afford to get a bus pass? I think that's fucking sad. Come on, Vancouver. Sorry for the swearing.

I'm saving money by biking to work this month. Did you know that June is bike month? Me neither. Well, it's bike month for me, because I - never mind, I've already whined about it too much. At any rate, it's about time we all biked everywhere we ever went all of the time, don't you think? Two wheels Dennis Hopper. Four wheels Suzanne Somers. RIP, Suzanne. GET ON YOUR BIKES AND RIDE! Unless you have one of these, in which case walking is probably the thing for you.