Handwriting, riding on cars

If there’s something I’m guilty of, it’s perpetuating stereotypes.  This blog perpetuates the stereotype that many cyclists are huge snobs.  Whether that is true is yet to be seen.

But what is becoming increasingly clear to me is that medical professionals really do have terrible handwriting.  Illegible, unreadable, chicken-scratchy crap that might endanger lives if it weren’t for the uncanny ability of some nurses to decipher it.  It’s not just doctors – nurses can over-cursive so much that words disappear in a sea of slants and loops.  The text that is most consistently readable is surprisingly from the super-jacked security staff, who tend to print in heavy block letters.  The text looks serial-killer-y, but it definitely is readable – no point in writing a ransom note that nobody can read!  Anyway, I’m trying to buck that trend by printing in large properly capitalized letters with good spacing.  If/when I kill someone, it’s going to because I screwed up on something else.


It took three weeks, but I finally made a bike-related purchase for my car:  the Thule Speedway 961XT 2-bike trunk rack from orsracksdirect.com for $100 with free shipping.  I will start supporting local bike shops for these large accessory purchases when they stop being snobs and/or price competitively.  The new “anti-sway” cradle units are a huge improvement on the discontinued (and $60 online) Thruway 968/969 units in that the new cradles will hold my bikes away from my bumper, reducing the risk of pedal damage to my back end.  The anti-sway units are also sold a la carte as a replacement part on the Thule website, a significant discount from buying the units as a retail product.  I don’t know if they are equivalent, but I do plan to replace our old Thule units with the new cradles.  If only I could open my trunk…

# of patients I’ve talked into riding their bikes:  2.

Nature is okay

It took me the big step of purchasing a car after years of being bike-only to realize that the entire area is plagued by pollen.  One day after washing the car, it’s covered with a mutant green fur.  And after Sunday night’s rain in Wellesley (among other places), the car looked like the aftermath of an alien splattering in Men in Black 2.  This explains why I always end up at work after a bike commute with my eyes feeling like I’d been hanging out with my pothead friends again.  Bad.  God bless 2nd generation antihistamines.

Sunday’s Brookline Bike Parade was pretty sweet.  There’s always a bit of a thrill when running a red light – running a dozen with the blessing of the cops on Beacon was just gravy.

Bike parade 1

And gravy.  Too bad I didn’t get pictures of the bike wrecks caused by kids weaving through traffic and inexplicably hitting the brakes.  That’ll teach them to hold their line.


Also got to meet the owner of one of the cooler pieces of bike paraphernalia I’ve ever seen.  Turns out that I shouldn’t have been so surprised that I’d find it at a Boston-area bike orgy.

Finally, my cycling friend and I decided that the parade was a bit too slow to call it a day, so we backtracked on Beacon Street to climb Summit Ave as a good complement to carnitas Super Burritos from Anna’s Taqueria.  God must love Boston.

corey hill

(Corey Hill:  It’s hard to get perspective on sloped ground – the house helps)