So, here I am in Los Angeles, at Wilshire and Santa Monica, and I have to say in the two years since I was last here, I've seen a 200% increase in cycling. Two years ago, I saw one bike on Wilshire. This year, I've seen three: One fixie, and two fully geared roadies. I briefly entertained the idea of renting a bike, maybe down at Venice Beach, but in LA all they seem to rent are those ridiculous, gay "California Cruisers" with tinfoil rims, spigot handlebars, balloon tires, and seats the size of Botswana.
The only cycling fix, therefore, came this morning in the hotel gym on a spinning bike, and just to make the indignity absolutely complete, it was one of those recumbent spin bikes with CNBC blaring from the little personal screen, and my heart rate LEDing right there under my watchful eye, apparently taking the pulse from my boney butt.
There will be no bicycles in Hell. But in Hell's waiting room, there will definitely be a recumbant spinbike with Jim Cramer braying about credit-default swaps while I just can't get my heart rate up to LT, sweating like a nun in a whorehouse.
An Amusement & Diversion for The Genteel Cyclist. Daily.