I guess I am missing something.

This weekend marked my first commute in shorts of the year. Coincidentally it was also my first commute on my P bike of the year. They kind of go hand in hand. Until I get to the professional slopestyle level, I probably won't be good enough to ride my P in jeans. Even then, it may never happen. Riding in pants in the summer in Fairbanks just seems like such a waste. I have my noon time commute to thank for the warm weather. My commute this morning was a slightly chillier 24°F.

What was even more fun was my ride home on Saturday. I passed what at first looked like a bunch of drunks standing outside the Marlin. Closer inspection revealed that nearly all of them had bicycles. This doesn’t mean they weren’t drunk, but did peg them as potential Critical Mass riders in my mind. I flipped around and rode back for another look. A second glance revealed wigs, costumes, a general party atmosphere and several bicycles that on the far end of disrepair. If it wasn’t a Critical Mass ride, it should have been. I must have looked equally bizarre to them in my helmet, padded gloves, riding baggies and highly functional long sleeve shirt. I received several hard stares coinciding with a noticeable drop in noise on the end of the crowd I was closest to. It was the kind of reaction you would expect if you walked into a debutant ball naked. I obviously didn’t look hip enough to receive a verbal invitation to the event, so after a few awkward seconds I turned my bike around (again) and headed for home.

Slightly more entertaining was the rant that I found this morning while trying to briefly determine if the Massers had indeed thawed and were again active in the area. I guess Xerocracy isn’t all it is cracked up to be.