The fleece-lined jeans and lobster claw gloves seemed like overkill on the way into the city, but by the time I started back, everything was about right.
This storm wasn't as bad as the one 15 months ago. For one thing, I was riding in daylight, and because it had been predicted, I was riding the right bike — my utilitarian Surly Otis with the knobby tires and 3-speed hub.
Still, there were two falls from ice slicks under the snow. Nothing of consequence, since at four miles per hour or so, the real fall is when your feet try to plant and slip away. And there's a nice cushion of snow, so the trick is simply not to be where an SUV is trying to prove something at the same time.
As you can see, I managed the trick.
People don't seem to believe me when I say I don't want a ride; this is part of the fun that comes from the wide range of experiences you get from biking everywhere. The "driving experience" is paltry and monochromatic in comparison.
