Rain Type Shit Whatever

At 9:09 AM I picked up an over-sized box on Federal Street and balanced it on my handlebars in order to get it to City Square in Charlestown before 9:30. From there I rode down Main Street to Austin Street and over the bridge into Cambridge for a pick-up at the Middlesex Registry to be dropped at a private residence by Beacon Hill. Riding a brakeless setup on 23 centimeter tires in torrential rain without a helmet could be considered a form of suicide, but relying solely on your intuition, skill, and timeliness is an overwhelming thrill. I bought a helmet. And I'm installing a brake. Also considering a fat suit.



That's my war pony hangin' in Provincetown with his bike bro not a big deal.

The nature of the courier business is as dangerous as your willing to make it. I've seen kids bombing down Beacon Hill through two red lights with no interruption to the pedal rotation. Granted, the alertness and skill of any given courier only goes so far due to the sudden change in conditions that are out of your control, but steering clear of absurdly high risk situations is going to keep you out of serious trouble in the long run. All it takes is for some douche in a 1994 Bronco to throw a half full Snapple at your torso and you wind up in the hospital. It's a standard rule of thumb not to ride near douches.

At 3:50 I got "kudos" from a Berklee student for "staying still" at a red light.

At some time around 4:10 I was handed a dollar in Kenmore while sitting with a homeless man drinking a Slurpee. An Asian bro handed each of us a dollar. The homeless chiller felt entitled to my given dollar. I agreed and kept the dollar.

My feet haven't been dry since Sunday.