Terrifyingly beautiful, the Franken-porteur has me dreaming of French escapades of grocery procurement. This thing is ready for a PDX run to Voodoo and Stumptown before hitting the Saturday Market.
Why riding my bike every day for 30 days this September proves (sort of) that I’m not as much of an ass as I used to be.
Putting together the parts for a rebirth of an old friend into a beast of burden. But without the burden of a car.
No, I didn’t travel back in time in my purple anodized aluminium time machine, this is an actual modern review of modern flat pedals. Enjoy.
I use the words dichotomy and cocksure. Plus there’s a picture of a dead dear and slate. Lots of slate…
Not unlike the semi-sweet reflux following a fantastic dinner, Part II returns to satiate the insatiable. You’ll be looking for the digestives after 6 more helpings…
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