we're the smartest monkeys

so last night there was some kind of alleycat race in ann arbor town. i know this because the older son calls me and says "hey dad i'm at arborcrest memorial gardens and can you pick me up at 404 pauline and by the way what's the best way to get there from here?" i told him to head for the stadium. on my way out of the house i couldn't help but notice he had taken the white bike, which made perfect sense i suppose. at the finish point i found him and a friend, whose very fine-looking fixed gear conversion is shown on this page; nice work for a teenager, i am compelled to admit. but he is very good with his hands.

the race had gone from point to point across town, actually a number of the places i used to go back in the day, although nothing was organized back then (of course); you simply rode somewhere, hung out, thought of somewhere else to ride, and then rode there: rinse, and repeat. it seemed like it would have been a fun thing to do, especially on a sixty-degree october evening. *sighs* maybe next time.

actually i was otherwise occupied during this race because i had once again taken off from work with my wallet in an unzipped jacket pocket, and once again had it fall out somewhere, although with two key differences this time: 1) i realized what had happened just halfway through the ride, and b) i found the durn thing myself, after backtracking all the way to the office, in the furiously gathering dark, and the stiff headwind that i had been thoroughly enjoying while riding in the opposite direction, and riding back north and getting just across i-94 and there seeing the wallet, with the card-carrying insert detached and both pieces flattened into the gravel bits in the gutter, and all the plastic and id intact but the wad of cash missing, there at state and i-94 where numerous transients come and go (hence the term), and me thinking it an example of hobo wisdom, that a wad of cash is useful but stolen credit cards are no good at all, and i was relieved to have been spared the hassle of replacing the atm and credit cards and the driver's license and who can remember what else, exactly. but no more wallet in pocket, dumbass.

i also had the pleasure, at the alleycat, of meeting dennis bean-larson of fixed gear gallery fame, and getting to brag a little about my bike, and just making that connection. it is tempting to imagine that, aside from all the posturing that young men (and sometimes even women) are capable of when they get their hands on something faintly iconoclastic (like: a bicycle with no derailleurs - take that mr. establishment!), there actually is a community of bicyclists that wants to take care of its members. well, we'll see what happens at the next alleycat.