We'll always have SuperCuts...

Calamity. I mean really terrible, horrendous news. I just found out that the girl who cuts my hair no longer works in Boulder. The girl who pulls my hair. The cute, punky girl who flirts with me. The girl who pulls my hair. The girl who runs her fingers through my hair telling me how much she likes it, and then pulls my hair. I mean if that isn’t true love then I don’t know what is. And now she’s gone, out of my life forever. Rumor has it she’s plying her trade in one of the neighboring “L” towns, but it might as well be Siberia.

Life Beyond the Freewheel?

Yesterday evening was beautiful – crisp & clear, perfect really. You know, a typical Boulder evening. I was returning from a Boulder Digital Arts Event, and it was so nice out that I decided to take the long way home. So there I am, biking along and having the time of my life when I’m struck with a terrible thought. I like to coast. I mean I really like to coast. Standing on my pedals, gliding along, picking my lines and shifting my weight to squeeze every last inch out of the few pedal strokes that I take… pure unadulterated bliss. What’s so terrible about coasting you say? Well it means I’m a fraud. I’m talking about fixies here – one gear, no freewheel – the wheel turns your legs turn. Instant bike cred deserving of respect and admiration. Any time I see a fixie its instant lust, such a beautiful yet simple machine. Biking at its purest perhaps. But with no freewheel, there’s no coasting! I have always operated under the assumption that one day I would pickup a fixed gear bike as a commuter - I've even placed a bid or two through Craigslist. Is it all in vain, do I have to face the facts and admit that fixed gears aren't for me? Is there life beyond the freewheel?