Stranger than...

On the Burnside drawbridge, waiting for a passing tugboat, observed this fellow bicycle commuter talking to the air. BMXers will immediately identify the clear Odyssey Twisteds.

Improving on Perfection: Breakfast on the Bridges adds Bacon.

It just seemed like the right thing, to inaugurate Ben's first day back at work since the birth of his beautiful son Gus with donut holes and coffee on the Steel bridge. The sizzlin' fresh pancakes, sausage patties, and non-vegan bacon were an unfathomable surprise quickly embraced.

All props to the profitless BonB crew.



We loitered for a half hour or so, discussing work and bikes: Caleb is happily unemployed again, and assembling a touring bike for a winter voyage; Ben complained about commuting via bmx ("It's half the speed, and twice the work!") and resolved to get his road bike functional before Monday; and I smugly called attention to my new collapsible metal pannier basket, a twenty-dollar purchase which keeps the messenger bag off my back and doubles my investment in the sixteen-inch machine.

We finally parted ways for what I assume were excellent Fridays all around.

Foldies.

These dorky little bikes are unbelievably fun and even somewhat practical.
When Jaime (my wife), in search of a simple bike with upright riding position, purchased this black folder a few years ago, I became immediately obsessed with it. The tall handlebars, high center of gravity (almost directly over the rear axle), twenty inch wheels, and narrow wheelbase create a geometry that is addictively nimble and comically twitchy. Carving and swerving produce wonderfully pronounced g-force sensations; because you're sitting straight up, the full force is transmitted squarely through the seat, not the leg or arm muscles.

It is bliss.



Minimal: just a front brake cable and coaster brake.
Fenders, rack, kick stand.

But scarcely a week had passed before Jaime wisely forbade me from riding her bike. (She caught me practicing front brake endos in her mother's driveway.) I would have to get my own.

The red bike was cherrypicked from the cluttered yard of a rural junk sculptor, who was delighted to get twenty bucks for it. The handling is even more squirrelly and thrilling than Jaime's bike, for one major reason: sixteen-inch wheels.


The fundamental circus bear ridiculousness is further enhanced by the bike's generally rickety condition; the complicated folding mechanism, with its countless pivots and connections, is incredibly creaky. You can clearly feel the frame flexing beneath you as you pedal. On two occasions, I've accidentally folded the bike in half while riding.



(Note the black bike's single, sturdy hinge.)
The final reason the red bike is so great is its utterly practical three-speed hub. (Jaime's bike has a one-speed coaster brake.) After a little research, I got the shifting dialed in, and the thing climbs mountains like a ski-lift.
...

Post-Script: A Little Story:

My teenage brother-in-law Trey and I have been systematically exploring Portland's nether regions late at night. The foldies are so easy that we basically just pick an interesting spot on the map and ride.
Trey on the left.

One recent evening, we were exploring the sprawling, paved, industrial peninsula on the Willamette River's East bank called Swan Island, hoping for a closer view of the massive cargo cranes looming in the distance. At the dead end of a winding road, we came upon a bewildering construction site. I stood on a bike rack and propped my camera on the fence, trying for a stable shot down the gaping maw of a strange, alien war vessel.


As I hopped down, security approached. "Taking pictures of anything in particular?" he asked.

"Just trying to get a decent shot of that crazy ship," I answered.

"That's a navy ship," he responded. "You definitely can't be photographing that. I'm supposed to take your camera from you now..."

But he was overpowered by our wholesome, innocent faces. "Aww, I guess it's alright," he said. "Have a good night."

We pedaled away, glowing with victory and a sudden ravenous hunger. Hit up the Voodoo Doughnut maple-bacons on our way home.
Immediately googled "FSF 1" and read all about it. The thing is awesome.

I feel pretty comfortable posting these pictures up, since it's not, in fact, classified...

Bridge, Bike, Coffee, Bliss.

It was over a year ago that I read (and blogged) about an ingenious union of mankind's three most magnificent achievements: coffee served to commuters riding bikes across Portland bridges.

Also, there are pastries. And it's free.

The recurring event is called "Breakfast on the Bridges,"and it happens from about 7am to 9am, on both the Hawthorne bridge and Steel bridge, the last Friday of every month, and every Friday in June. Over and over, Ben and I made plans to investigate, but it seemed like something always came up, or we'd simply lose track of plans made a month in advance. But we resolved to make it happen one of these June Fridays.

Friday before last, we succeeded. It was awesome and easy, and we'll be doing it regularly from here on out. Definitely. Here are some photos and a quick report.

The Hawthorn Bridge coffee station sets up on the West side of the river, at an amply wide section of the Westbound sidewalk. No booth, no card table, just some air-pots perched on a concrete barrier. We failed to notice what brand of coffee was being served, but not that it was dark, hot, fresh, and utterly satisfying. Chose from a selection of non-disposable ceramic mugs. Here, Ben follows protocol and helps himself.

Pastry box.

This is bmx rider Caleb Evenson, who recently moved back to Portland. He is a hippie but does not smoke pot and does not stink, even though he currently resides in a minivan, to be documented in a future post. (Here it is. -ed.) Caleb is drinking cider in this picture.

We lingered at the Hawthorne station for twenty or thirty minutes, enough time for a couple of leisurely coffee & pastry rounds; lots of people-watching; beautiful chilly Portland Summer morning. (Note long sleeves on all parties.) Swished our cups in the rinse bucket and headed off to ride a little street before my 9am professional obligations.

Briefly hit up the Steel Bridge coffee station, down on the pedestrian level, East side, but took no pics. Another good scene, but our appetites were satisfied, and we were eager for some bmx. Hit up all the good spots on the East Bank Esplanade, got good and sweaty and sore, snapped just this one photo. Ben wallrides from flat over the 2-foot chunk for no reason. Hawthorne bridge in the background, Caleb silhouetted on his kooked one-speed.

Ben and Caleb discussing cameras. (A bunch of smart little videos on Caleb's vimeo page, btw.)

Detail: Caleb's ride.


After I took off, Ben and Caleb filmed this. A productive morning on all fronts.

I'm going to go heat up some afternoon dregs now, and think up a title for this post.