Going down the south slope of the pass is much less pleasing: the road clings tightly to the 405, with its ten lanes of screaming frenzy...but soon enough I turned off Sepulveda and again wound mostly through side streets to Brentwood for coffee and a marzipan-rich almond croissant and Caffe de Luxxe, where I know the weekend baristas, Andreas and Eric, great fellows both.
From there one of my usual routes home.
After a rest and a shower, I ran out again for lemons and goat cheese, necessities for a Secret Dessert Gina's making to follow up son Jack's cooking (he treats tonight!). I got out the orange bike and pedaled to the Third Street Farmers Market for the goods, and on the way out saw a very chic young lady, wearing pressed designer jeans, calf-leather high-heeled half boots, a clingy top, and very expensive looking sunglasses...walking like she owned the universe. And she had one pant leg rolled up: rolled up so perfectly that I suspected her valet had done it for her. Waking from the bike rack with oen pant leg rolled up....
And there in the rack--the new row of racks, in fact, put up because more and more folks are riding to shop--there was the only bike she was likely to have ridden: an immaculate, hot pink, gleaming fixie.
Just the kind too many "serious" riders make fun of.
So I say the hell with those serious riders. Touring bikes, sensible hybrids, chunky commuters, none of those got that lady out of her car and onto a bike.
All hail neon fixies! They're doing the job!
As for the alleged "impracticality" of fixies: I rode my two mountain passes this morning a fixed wheel, and I'm an old fart!
Brought home some vegetables my dad gave me too.