More Views From My Bike

Summer in Lincoln is not altogether a pleasant affair. The other day it was in the upper nineties--where it stayed into the night--with simply awful humidity. Now, I don't tend to have much sympathy for the average exercise/sleeveless jersey shirt wearer. They simply aren't evening wear and if your body is such that it bursts out of its clothing, drop the car and get a bike, it'll help with the farmer's tan. So, it was with some dismay that I realized how tired I was with rolling up my shirt sleeves when I was biking, so I tore off the short sleeves of one and then two of my more threadbare undershirts. (One has a bunch of small paint stains, but they are of similar mint.) Not only that, but with oil spill picking up again today (turns out a robot ran into the "capped" well and broke the contraption) and its prevalence in the news overall, I thought it wise to put something on the back of my biking shirts.

More than once I have been accosted by passersby for biking and, more recently, for biking in the road. First of all, commuter bikes belong in the road. Walking is generally avoided in South Lincoln--everything is too sprawled out unless you're feeling ambitious--but there and just about everywhere else, roads are likely to be in better repair, not have debris, and provide more dexterity if an obstacle presents itself. As a fantastic little poster once posited, "We are traffic." So stop bitching and share the road. Second, at least once someone threw trash at me and at least once some school kids tried to tease me for biking. I don't get it, really. And given that these interactions occur at about 20 mph, I decided to put something on my shirt to speak up for me.




The latter is partially inspired (or at least cited as the appropriate figure) by B-Cycle's video announcement (PSA? Ad? Whatever.) and the former is a little double entendre that I made up--as far as I know--and has the approval of Miss Lacie Doughtery and Mr Ryan Hansen. It isn't a shirt I would, say, pay for, but something I guess I would wear if it were free. Besides, the typeface and picture turned out quite clear and concise, which inspires me. If you have any pro-bike jokes, statements, double entendres, or whatever, let me know, I would love to make more. Oddly, I noticed a shirt on a customer at Ivanna Cone with a similar image as the former, that is small figures stating that bikes have infinite city and highway mileage. The images were a little too small for much use, but I enjoyed it.

So, hopefully I can get retort to a few derisive comments, make someone laugh, and be a little fresher than I otherwise would be on my rides now. I am glad I got around to writing these shirts, which isn't something I usually do. Most of my friends may take note that I am not much of a tee-shirt guy to begin with. At work, biking, and doing chores I am pretty likely to be wearing one these days, but at school and around the house I tend toward the button up shirts. What can I say? I am classy like that.

In other news, I put up my hammock from Brazil. It has the Brazilian tri-color in a plaid pattern and is hitched around a tree and a deck post. It is absurdly widespread because it is way too difficult to find appropriately spaced columns around one's home. I plan on doing some quality reading with the help of sunscreen before heading off to work. It is strange to feel proud of such small endeavors--hanging a hammock, writing on a shirt--but they feel so earnestly appropriate right now, to summer and to sun and to biking. It is a strange, oppressive, and awfully weighty summer in Nebraska, but accented with deliciously cool, sunny days with their own sense of openness, of friendliness, and you are just there, enjoying it despite knowing that in twenty-four hours it will turn around and backhand you across the face.

Oh Nebraska, I have to love how sincere your seasons are.