How to have fun in Los Angeles…without a car!

In this video, we have a weekend micro-vacation in the heart of Los Angeles, WITHOUT a car. Yes, it’s possible to have fun with bikes and transit. The footage was shot using PEN cameras. Finally got a chance to download and edit it all. Not too shabby for the small cameras. What do you guys think?

(Keep our adventures going and the site growing! If you’ve enjoyed our stories, videos and photos over the years, consider buying our ebook Panniers and Peanut Butter, or our new 2012 calendar or some of the fun zombie apocalypse shirts we’re designing.)

A Leo Carrillo S24O

We were sitting around a table full of the remains of a Thanksgiving feast, when Laura got a text. “S24O to Leo Carrillo?” Stuffed with turkey and mashed potatoes, pedaling fully loaded up PCH was really the last thing on our minds. However, feeling generally gross from not being on a bike the last few days and having just consumed a massive Thanksgiving dinner, we knew we had to go. After a little deliberation we said yes.

The idea of the S24O was coined and popularized by Grant from Rivendell Bicycle Works. Because of its growing popularity, Adventure Cycling even started BikeOvernights.org for people to submit their short form tours. There are many luscious and evocative images of the Rivendell crew pushing bikes up dirt roads, across little creeks and camping on a hill overlooking Walnut Creek – but that’s the Bay area. We were squarely in Sprawlville.

Undeterred, we loaded up the Bromptons and rode 12 miles to the nearest lightrail stop in North Hollywood. We hopped the train to Union Station where we picked up an express bus that took us to Santa Monica. Total trip time to get to the START of the riding – 3 hours.

We met up with Bryan and Cynthia at the co-op in Santa Monica and then hit the road. Our route was to take PCH more or less North to Leo Carrillo. I have to put it out there and say that PCH through Malibu is one of my least favorite stretches of roads in Los Angeles. The traffic speeds are fast, the shoulder is constantly disappearing and the drivers can be rude and obnoxious.

Perhaps it was because people were experiencing turkey hangover, or maybe it was the odd sight of two Bromptons, a road bike and an Xtracycle loaded with camping gear, but the drivers this particular weekend remained fairly calm. The riding was not pleasant, but it was bearable. It wasn’t until we hit Pepperdine University that the shoulder widened and we could start to (almost) enjoy the ride.

From Pepperdine onward, the road conditions were a little better and we could enjoy the hills and the scenery. The weather this weekend was uncannily perfect. The highs were in the low 80s at the end of November! I’ve camped at Leo Carrillo before on some solo bike trips, but this was Laura’s first time there. Suffice to say, it did not disappoint. As we rode in the park entrance, the sign read “campground full”, but Leo Carrillo is one of the last state parks in Southern California to have a hiker/biker site. The site itself is beautiful anchored by a large and sheltering tree. All around us was the orange and yellowish glow of leaves changing colors.

The weather was perfect and we knew we were in for a pleasant evening of beers around the campfire. It was hard to imagine that we were only about 30 miles from Santa Monica with its bustling pier and promenade.

Cynthia got three bundles of firewood from the camp store with the Xtracycle. We took showers, cooked our meals, drank some beers and made some smores over the fire.

We had a lazy morning, burning the last bundle of firewood, brewing some coffee and taking down camp. The weekend was a beautiful respite from the craziness of Los Angeles. We all remarked how lucky we were as bike tourists to still have the hiker/biker site at Leo Carrillo. If you live in Southern California, it’s worth a visit (even if you’re not on some epic bike tour and just for an overnighter). Write to the California State Parks and comment on their Facebook page and let them know that the bike site is a valued resource.

I also managed to do a quickie review of the Exped Air Pillow, while at Leo Carrillo

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(Keep our adventures going and the site growing! If you’ve enjoyed our stories, videos and photos over the years, consider buying our ebook Panniers and Peanut Butter, or our new 2012 calendar or some of the fun zombie apocalypse shirts we’re designing.)

This Winding Road

Things did not go as planned this year. Our lofty, yet attainable, goals just seemed to slip through our fingers. And, while I’ve long felt that I should just make peace with the way things turned out, I have been incredibly frustrated about it all.

Ironically, the hardest part has been this weirdly nagging feeling that there’s a reason why everything worked out the way it did. As if someone else had other plans for us, possibly better plans, and we had to stop trying to control it and just go along.

I have been struggling for weeks to put this into words somehow. To find a way to express this frustration, while also recognizing that, somehow, we’re exactly where we need to be. To explain how much we have been focused internally this year, and where it has begun to lead us, without sliding down the hill of pessimism and blame.

And then a weird thing happened. It was late afternoon on the second day of our recent train journey from Oregon to Los Angeles. I looked out the window and suddenly recognized a road that we had ridden on a trip nearly three years earlier. We reminisced for a moment – about the beautiful riding, being passed by a farmer driving a tractor, having to hitch a ride in a pick-up because we had blown our timing and needed to cross a small mountain pass in the dark – and, suddenly, it clicked in my head.

Anyone who has ever traveled has, no doubt, experienced that moment when, suddenly, everything is right with the world. As I watched the small town of Guadalupe drift past the train window, the anxiety and petty frustrations of daily life disappeared, and in their stead was a firm understanding of why I live this non-traditional life. And, somehow, as the train wound around the hills, I finally realized what I have been trying to put into words about where this year has led us and what it means to be a veteran traveler.

Being a traveler means being equal parts dreamer and businessperson. We have to envision grand things and leave a lot up to serendipity. At the same time, we have to dot all our i’s and find a way to keep the books in the black. It’s a tricky balance of roles that becomes more important the longer we travel – because, at a certain point, traveling diverges from vagabonding, and it must become sustainable if we want our experiences to be bigger than just us. In other words: If traveling full-time is to be our lifestyle and livelihood, then it must also be our business.

That may sound cold and calculated, or conjure up images of schmoozing with suits. In reality, that change in thinking moves us away from an all-consuming, once-in-a-lifetime endeavor, and toward a model that can nurture more than just our immediate personal needs.

When we think about the future, we don’t want to build a house somewhere, we want to build a world full of bicycle travelers. It’s a goal that requires both strategy and fun, smart planning and adventure. And it’s an enormous opportunity for our travels to mean so much more than just our own gratification.

Things did not go as planned this year. As it turned out, we needed the space to shift our identities and our narrative away from a simple extension of our first big trip. We needed to step into bigger versions of ourselves, and start building something that will outlast the stories of a single journey.

A few weeks ago, we officially became a small business, focused on publishing content that promotes bicycle travel. We’re excited about this evolution and look forward to wherever it takes us. We’ll soon have some exciting news about our next travel destination – and we hope that you’ll continue to follow along as we continue to travel and inspire a bicycle-travel-friendly world.

(Keep our adventures going and the site growing! If you’ve enjoyed our stories, videos and photos over the years, consider buying our ebook Panniers and Peanut Butter, or our new 2012 calendar or some of the fun zombie apocalypse shirts we’re designing.)

A Virtual Thank You

This Thanksgiving finds us away from the grey and rain of the Pacific Northwest and in sunny Southern California. Just a few days ago the lows were dipping below freezing in Oregon, now we are in the land of 70s and sun and endless asphalt. Our last year has been unpredictable and strange, but there has been one constant – you. This site first started out as a personal record of our trip but over time it has transformed into a community. Over the years, we have met readers who have turned into friends. This crossing over from the virtual world into reality has been one of the pleasant surprises of our site. So, Thank You!

Laura with our friend Meghan, a bike and ped advocate in Santa Monica.

Willie Weir and Kat, two great world bicycle travelers and one of our early inspirations in bike touring.

Missy and Shane, a cargo biking family of 5 in Eugene. Shane is also the Safe Routes to School coordinator in Eugene.

We are also thankful for the thousands of readers who we haven’t met yet, but have been supportive of our endeavors. Lots of our readers identify as bike advocates in their community and it is humbling to read their emails and see how we’ve played a small part in their lives.

We got this great email and photo from Ken and his wife after they got their Bike Local shirts.

We have been doing almost all of our local errands by bike for a few years now,
all year round. The trailer has over 500 miles on it mostly from grocery store
and farmer market trips.

The attached picture was taken at our favorite store, MOM, My Organic Market.
The glare obscures the sign in the window that says 100% wind powered. This
is at a local shopping center that recently underwent a renovation. I was able to
talk the owner into installing nice bike racks. One of them is in the picture, right
out front of MOMs.

This photo is from Joyce, a mom and bike advocate in Houston that rocked our Zombie Shirt at a Houston Transportation Action Group panel discussion.

The truth of the matter is that we know our lives may seem glamorous, a life constantly on two wheels, but like all life choices, it has its ups and downs. We are constantly mobile but have given up the stability of a community of friends. The internet and your participation, your emails, your comments all help give us a sense of community as we move about and this will become more and more important as we start explore further away. So thank you!

(Keep our adventures going and the site growing! If you’ve enjoyed our stories, videos and photos over the years, consider buying our ebook Panniers and Peanut Butter, or our new 2012 calendar or some of the fun zombie apocalypse shirts we’re designing.)

Amtrak Roomette Tour / Back in California

We just got off the train a few hours ago and are now back in Southern California. We’ve taken Amtrak from Oregon to California more than a few times and have always enjoyed it, especially in the sleeper car. We’ve ridden our fair share of coach trips and have since been spoiled by taking the sleeper. If at all possible, we will opt for the extra room, the ability to lay down and the included meals. But what’s it like? Doing a search on Youtube didn’t bring up many good examples of the experience, so we thought we’d give you all a sneak peak into the sleeper cars. (Youtube version)

Amtrak remains one of our favorite ways to travel with a bicycle. Compared to flying or Greyhound, Amtrak has a fairly enlightened policy when it comes to bikes and we’ve always had great customer service with them. On our last adventure, we had hoped to highlight the possibilities of multi-modal travel. We would have preferred to integrate the train more than we did, but things didn’t work out as planned. However, It is still our belief that combining rail and bicycles has great possibilities in our country’s transportation future.

(Keep our adventures going and the site growing! If you’ve enjoyed our stories, videos and photos over the years, consider buying our ebook Panniers and Peanut Butter, or our new 2012 calendar or some of the fun zombie apocalypse shirts we’re designing.)

A Portland Fall

Today we’re leaving Portland and won’t return until some indefinite time next year. Portland has a strange gravity for us. Anyone that has read our site long enough or follows us on Facebook knows that we always seem to be drawn back here. There are so many things about it that we love, like bikes, beer, food and especially our group of bikey friends.

Fall is here and winter is not too far behind. There’s talk of snow this weekend. The last few days I’ve been testing out some lenses and getting a feel for them. I’ve been enjoying the Fall in Portland and have been taking some photos to remember it.

In a few days, we’ll be to Los Angeles for Thanksgiving. And not too long after we’re going to be heading off on the next leg of our travels. Details aren’t solid yet, but once they’re set we’ll let you all know. For now, we’re enjoying the crispness in the air and that electric feeling of something great to come.

I’ve had some requests to make images available as prints, you can purchase some copies here.

(Keep our adventures going and the site growing! If you’ve enjoyed our stories, videos and photos over the years, consider buying our ebook Panniers and Peanut Butter, or our new 2012 calendar or some of the fun zombie apocalypse shirts we’re designing.)

Video Review: Mic Check (SEMA-1, Audio Technica Lavalier, Senn MKE 400)

I’ve been fine tuning our photography and video gear for our next leg of adventure. During the last few weeks, I’ve made a switch to the Olympus PEN system of cameras for stills and video (my D700 is still safely tucked away though). The PEN system, while not the best camera for every application, is excellent for travel. I’m planning to write up a longer review later after a few weeks of road testing the cameras. So far I’m pretty pleased. Just like how we’ve pushed the Brompton perhaps a little beyond its intended use, we are doing the same with the PENs. While they shoot video, they aren’t quite optimized for video. However, with a little creativity and understanding the limits of the system they seem to work pretty well. Of course, an important component of video is sound. In this video review, I try out the three mics I’ll be taking with us.

The first is the small stereo microphone that comes included with the SEMA-1. The SEMA-1 is necessary to use external mics. It plugs into the hotshoe and adds an external mic socket. I’m not particularly thrilled with the stock mic, but it is small and could come in handy in those situations where I can’t wire someone or couldn’t rig the shotgun in time.

The second mic I try out in the video is an Audio Technica wired lavalier. It’s not very fancy, but it does a great job. It is a mono mic, so I added a mono-stereo adaptor on the end so it duplicates the channels. In controlled situations, this is my “go to” mic because I can expect constant audio levels without watching the subject distance.

The third and final mic is the Sennheiser MKE 400, a mini shotgun mic that is popular with many DSLR video shooters. It makes the perfect compliment with the PEN system. It is small and the mic cord is coiled so it won’t fall in front of the lens. The build quality is impressive with the metal body. It feels like a quality piece of gear.

I’m not trained in video, but have been slowly teaching myself how to shoot and edit. It is quite a different beast from stills with the added dimensions of time and sound. We did more video on the last trip and I really want to take it up a level in New Zealand! So far, this kit seems like it will work. It’s hard to tell. Some things work great at home but not so well on the road. Stay tuned.

(Keep our adventures going and the site growing! If you’ve enjoyed our stories, videos and photos over the years, consider buying our ebook Panniers and Peanut Butter, or our new 2012 calendar or some of the fun zombie apocalypse shirts we’re designing.)

Waiting and Wandering

Our travels are in a holding pattern as we wait for the final pieces to come together before we can hit the road again. While waiting can be interminable, we’ve been making the best of the situation by working on getting various projects done. Laura has been making jewelry and headbadges and I’ve been designing different t-shirts and working on some mini-books we are writing. We’ve also been spending time in some of our favorite places in Oregon, traveling by bike and transit.

We went out to Bend for the Day of the Dead Cyclocross races and enjoyed the crisp but sunny weather. The races were a treat to watch with lots of people dressed up in costume enjoying some bikey fun.

After Bend, we returned to Corvallis and continued to work and would occasionally slip out for some riding in the beautiful country side out there.

A few days ago we returned to Portland again to visit some friends and spend my birthday in town.

We visited our friends Tammy and Logan from RowdyKittens to check out their new tiny house. They’ve only had it for three weeks and it is adorable. Surprisingly, despite it’s small size on paper it felt quite roomy and cozy. It was great to see a dream they have had for years finally fulfilled.

Today was my birthday and I spent it with friends. The morning started with going to the cyclocross races, followed by BBQ and then an evening of watching some zombie movies.

We’re itching to get back on the road and are hoping to share some good news soon, so hang in there.

(Keep our adventures going and the site growing! If you’ve enjoyed our stories, videos and photos over the years, consider buying our ebook Panniers and Peanut Butter, or our new 2012 calendar or some of the fun zombie apocalypse shirts we’re designing.)

Car-ody Shirts: Threads for Bike People

Our Zombie Apocalypse shirts have proven to be wildly popular! Thanks to everyone that ordered one. We never imagined that the shirts would do so well and it’s all helping us inch our way a little closer to New Zealand. I’m branching out to different shirts that will have a pro-bike message. Since we have a large contingency of readers who are bike advocates, I’ll be working on shirts that are a little transportation wonky (talk about a niche market!). So if you’re looking for some fun pro-bike shirts for yourself or for friends for the holidays, visit our Carody shirt section and the links below. The shirt sales keep us on the road and keep the site running!

After reading about Senator Boxer’s cuts to funding in a Federal highway bill and the inclusion of a clause that would create a mandatory sidepath law along Federal roads, I came up with this VOTE BIKES design. We’re at a time where we need to remind our elected officials that we bike AND we VOTE.

As we have been touring we have been taking a closer look at how bicycling can help local economies. With the limited range of bikes (not always a bad thing), people are more likely to support local businesses. With this idea in mind, I came up with the Bike Local. Buy Local design.

We love trains -Amtrak, light rail, HSR, etc., Perhaps not surprisingly, there aren’t a lot of shirts for transit aficionados. So I decided to reappropriate the popular X is for lovers slogan for rail with Trains are for Lovers.

And of course a few designs that poke fun at Zipcar and Smart cars : ) Visit our Carody shirt store!

Hope you enjoy the shirts and thanks again for supporting our travels. If you want a color combination that isn’t offered or have an idea for a shirt design, feel free to email us.

How Losing My Car Saved My Life

It will surprise some readers to know that, in a not too distant past, before Path Less Pedaled, before Epicurean Cyclist, and before I was the bicycling photographer of Long Beach, I didn’t ride bikes, buses or trains. It’s almost embarrassing to admit, especially to our very astute bikey readers, but these things barely registered on my radar. I only relay these not-so-pretty details now to hopefully show others what is possible… just because you have one lifestyle now, doesn’t mean you are doomed to live it until the very end.

So yes, dear readers, I drove and drove a lot. I was younger, freshly graduated from college, subsisting on the poor man’s diet of hotdogs and a pack of cigarettes a day. I was working as a graphic designer. Most of my day was spent sitting in front a computer, pushing a mouse around. The rest of it was spent sitting in traffic. Lots of it. This was Los Angeles, the sort of place where you could fill a whole evening’s conversation with the question, “so what freeways did you take to get here?”

My life, in short, was fairly typical for a Los Angelean. I had resigned myself to commuting about 35 miles one way from Long Beach to Culver City. A childhood of sitting in the back of a car to go everywhere conditioned me to believe that there was just no other option. So, as an adult, I merely accepted my fate. This is what people do. On an average day, my commute took 45 minutes in one direction. On a hellish day, it could be upwards of an hour and a half to two hours in ONE direction. I did this for a couple of years and shudder now to think of all the time I’ve lost staring at someone’s brake lights in front of me. But at that point of my life, I didn’t know there was any other way.

One fateful evening, I was driving back from the San Fernando Valley after visiting my family. I was on the 405 and was near the Getty Center, perched up on the hill. I wasn’t quite over the Sepulveda Pass when my truck made the most god-awful racket I had ever heard come from a car. It sounded like ten rabid monkeys with wrenches were banging from the inside of the engine, trying to break free. I merged to the exit lane and pulled over on the surface street, wondering what to do. I was no mechanic, but from the sound the truck was making, I knew it was toast. Little did I know that night would change my life.

I was faced with the decision of whether I should fix or replace the truck. Fortunately, at that point of my career, I was still doing graphic design, but had taken a job where I was telecommuting to a firm in the Bay Area. For the first time, in all my years, I envisioned life without a car. It was simultaneously exciting and frightening. Although I didn’t actually have to drive to work anymore, how would I get to everywhere else? How would I do groceries? Go out? Buy stuff? See my friends? Would I just wither away in solitude with my hotdogs and cigarettes?

The whole undertaking was so daunting. I felt helpless and vulnerable. I didn’t know anyone that didn’t own a car. You see, to not have a car in Los Angeles meant one of two things: 1) you were destitute and couldn’t afford one, otherwise why would you do without? or 2) you had a DUI and had your license taken away. To be categorized as either was far from flattering.

And yet, I knew in my heart of hearts that I didn’t really want a car anymore. All those endless hours I spent sitting in traffic had sucked any fun out of driving. A car, for me, wasn’t a symbol of freedom but one of servitude. But I also had no clue how to get around without one. To keep my sanity, I decided to frame everything as an “experiment.” I was going to do a self-study to see how I could get along in Los Angeles without an automobile. By doing a little creative distancing, I gave myself the permission to try to live without a car without viewing myself as a failure. Whenever someone would ask, I would tell them that I was just “conducting a little experiment.” It gave me an out. I didn’t declare that I was going to be carfree ad infinitum on that first day, I was just testing the waters.

At first, things were hard. Instead of walking thirty feet to sit down again and magically transport myself to the supermarket, I had to walk. A lot. Things were not automatic or easy or convenient. I head to learn how to read bus schedules and figure out how to get around town. I know it sounds silly to say this all now, because it’s so second nature, but back then it was new, unexplored territory. In the process of all the walking, I also became more aware of my body, or more specifically, how unhealthy I had become. I could feel my lungs strain and hurt at the little exercise I was getting, and it scared me. Even then, I was aware of how precious and unique life was and how fortunate I was to be alive in the United States with all my body parts functioning. So about a week before September 11th, I quit smoking and started eating healthier. I only remember this because there was nothing more that I wanted to do than light up after watching the towers fall.

It was hard, but I kept at it. At this point, I still hadn’t discovered the bicycle. On a whim, I borrowed my neighbor’s rollerblades and was instantly hooked. Something about the speed and the balance and the feeling like you were gliding across the ground was invigorating. If you talked to my old neighbors now, they’d probably vaguely remember some slightly overweight asian kid skating around the block hundreds of times a day hacking up phlegm. It wasn’t pretty, but I didn’t care. It was the first time in a long time that I felt alive, that I was fully present, mentally and physically. In about a month, I got my own pair of inline skates. Two months later, I had a pair of carbon fiber speed skates. Soon after, I signed up to skate the Long Beach Marathon and, a few months after that, I flew to Tahiti to skate an inline marathon there (that’s a strange tale of its own).

It was around this physical awakening that I experienced an occupational one as well. I was less and less satisfied with being a design monkey, spending hours a day pushing a mouse and tapping keys. So I started delving into photography. It had the same things I liked about design – dealing with visual aesthetics, balance, color, composition – but it happened in real time in the REAL physical world. I bought cameras (everything from 35mm to 4×5 sheet film) and built a darkroom with the new-found cash I had from not owning a car. This was another big revelation. I could afford the toys I wanted because I was no longer paying for gas, parking tickets, insurance, repairs, etc. I don’t think I could have indulged my photography hobby (which eventually became my next career) if I had a car. While I did design during the day, my nights were spent making a mess in the bathroom trying to teach myself how to develop film and make prints.

As I got more serious with photography, I was learning that skating around with several thousand dollars of camera gear on your back was not very prudent. So, on another whim, I borrowed a neighbor’s bike (a different neighbor). I had that same giddy feeling I had when I first hopped on skates, except this time it was different. It just felt right. It was more efficient. Not to say that it was easy. I had to relearn how to ride a bike. I hadn’t ridden since I was a kid and, back then, I only rode on the sidewalk. So I did some research and found that I could ride in the street, and I essentially went about the work of teaching myself how to commute by bike. I had no mentors, just bicycle forums. Back then, bike commuting blogs were few and far between, so learning was slow.

I spent most of my early months riding around the block (my neighbors must have thought I was nuts), then mostly on the bike path going back and forth. Just like with the rollerblades, within a month I bought my own bike at a flea market. Of course, I knew nothing about bikes and bought it solely on its looks. I’m a little embarrassed to admit that the bike that got me so excited was a bright yellow Schwinn Varsity. Perhaps the heaviest bike known to man. And it was too big. But what did I know about bikes? I just knew I wanted to ride one, so I bought it.

At that point, I wasn’t the bike aficionado I am today. I didn’t know my bike sucked. I just rode it everywhere. It was the first bike I rode over 20 miles on. I’d walk it proudly into bike shops as I shopped for accessories, not knowing at the time that I was probably getting pegged as a clown or Fred. That is why I have a special place in my heart for people that are riding the “wrong” bike – because I’ve been there! And I know that, if someone had said something disparaging and crushed my enthusiasm at that early stage of cycling, I could have thrown in the towel. Today, I bristle when I see the snobbishness that some bicyclists and bike shops have toward beginning commuters. We’re so often unaware of what those fleeting sleights will do, what butterfly effect they could have on someone’s future love or hate for bicycling.

Needless to say, I discovered panniers at some point, and that was another revelation. Not only could I get somewhere with my bicycle, but I could bring things with me. It felt fun and subversive to be able to do everything I could do with my car with a bicycle. I was hooked. In the following years, I would experiment with everything from a Bike Friday to a fixed gear, a three speed, a Trek 520, an Xtracycle, a trailer, Bilenky cargo bike, etc. I met Laura in this transitional period of mine, and she too started bike commuting, and we both discovered bike touring together.

At some point, my “experiment” with getting around in Los Angeles without a car had ended, and my life as a car-free bicyclist began. I don’t remember exactly when that was, but I do remember the feeling I had when I knew that I would no longer own a car any more, and it wasn’t dread and it wasn’t fear – it was relief. I felt free from a system that I thought was inescapable. I had liberated myself from an entire matrix of seductive commercials, glossy ads, high payments, predatory loans, parking tickets, insurance payments, maintenance, worrying if the mechanic who was only suppose to be changing my oil wasn’t doing something else as well. In short, in one fell swoop I had cut out a giant chunk of human stress and expense by opting out of the car and everything it involved.

The longer I went without driving, the stranger I found how the car – this assemblage of nuts and bolts and metal – could have such strong power over us. It defines our politics, it shapes our cities, it determines how we interact and how we view ourselves. All that for just a few pieces of metal and rubber, put together in a certain fashion.

I read a post recently on an automobile blog that stated, in semi-horror, that Millennials (the 20-30 somethings of today) no longer view the automobile as a symbol of independence and freedom, but as just an appliance. But hasn’t it always just been an appliance? And why would that somehow be an insult? I love my bikes, but I see them as tools and appliances as well.

So that is my origin story as a cyclist. I was not born a cyclist. I came to it late in life. There was nothing in my childhood that would have predicted that I would grow up to love bikes. In fact, by all accounts, I should be just another stuck car on the 405 (main arterial freeway in Los Angeles). But one fateful evening, my car died. It felt like a bit of a tragedy at the time, but little did I know that a better life was in store and finally beginning.

(Keep our adventures going and the site growing! If you’ve enjoyed our stories, videos and photos over the years, consider buying our ebook Panniers and Peanut Butter, or our new 2012 calendar or some of the fun zombie apocalypse shirts we’re designing.)