eighty; Kat, Red Commuter (with a milk crate)

She’s the only person I’ve known who can pull off a tattoo of the Sun Records emblem (I lived in Nashville).
She studies Behavioral Economics and listens to the Bad Brains, the type in class that should speak but rarely does (unless its about Kosovo… honestly impressive), in a school filled with the opposite.
Fell asleep today in Sociology (apparently she’s read a book on the lecture topic), but prefers to nap on the grass.
She made her own Halloween costume (a skunk), literally lives with Swine Flu and knows who wrote the screenplay for “Where the Wild Things Are.”

seventy-nine; Gialiana, Specialized Mountain Bike (with a silver bell)

A talent can both be a suture and a binding tie.
She plays viola with passion that’s beyond physical constraints, literally.
In fact it’s so strong, her fatherly conductor has to check her back pain after nightly rehearsals, regularly running until midnight.
A one-track mind can often be mistaken for an absent one; ATM card and laptop in plain view as she unlocks her bike alone at night.
She’s learned to loosen the tension and the need for perfection, with a knitting habit.
Such little time fraternize (she’s playing on Halloween), someone surely will be wishing they were her strings.

seventy-eight; Michael, Diamondback Mountain Bike

Dawning a cardigan, tie and loafers is not just an ironic fashion statement; it’s practice.
There has never been a moment in his life where he can remember not wanting to be a judge.
LSATS are what he is, does, eats, sleeps and breaths.
He comes from a “horse family,” wallet is branded with an image of his grandfather buggy racing.
His whip/carrot pragmatism is both current (for school) and vintage (for style).
He has a heavy future and a light heart.
Admittedly the shoes came from the basement of his Co-Op, and his Halloween costume is better than yours.

seventy-seven; Kevin, Road bike (just sold)

Appropriate that when I receive my first C in years, he reminds me of the futility of education in relation to joy.
Outside the bar, he chides his friends for riding without nightlights.
Majored in literature because he “was good enough at it,” the only way he foresees using his degree is if, “I don’t know, I go back to school.”
He started working on his future (literally) in college, when, strapped for cash, he taught himself to repair bikes.
Started as an apprentice 3.5 years ago, now he’s the head mechanic at my favorite shop.
More importantly, he’s happy.

seventy-six; Patrick, Diamondback Freestyle

His handy work hangs around his neck in intricate copper spirals, laced through bone, glass and stone.
His craftwork ascends the Bob Marley shirts and “water pipes” typical of Telegraph street peddlers.
One might call it art.
He has aspirations of becoming “a kickass dad, with an awesome, hot wife and maybe do carpentry or something.”
Claims to be better with wood than wire, but since he moved from Virginia to the Bay, he hasn’t had a chance to get his hands dirty.
Wandering, but not lost,
Grounded yet adrift;
only bumper stickers hold the kind of truths he embodies

seventy-five; Blake, Mongoose Commuter

He has three different mustaches tattooed on the inside of the fingers of his right hand, providing a spectacle of expressions when he plays the mandolin.
He has his best friend (of 23 years) on his side, for whom he has provided his old bike.
He has a bit of a buzz, providing him with an enviable smile, and the fuel to make a doughnut run at 10:30pm on a Sunday.
He has a job doing something he likes (video game journalism), when 9.8% of Americans don’t, providing him just enough means to get bye.
He has no complaints tonight.

seventy-four; H. Scott Prosterman, Vintage Road Bike

The mans a “professional,”
In his words he, “helps people get in, and then gets them out”
So ahead of the curve he finished his Middle-Eastern studies degree 30 years ago, (lived in Egypt during the Camp David Accords).
He provides;
Tutoring for writing, grammar, citizenship, and accent reduction.
Editorial, Copy and Counseling support for academic, corporate and non-profit projects, as well as college and grad school admissions.
Marathons, Triathlons and “the shortest white-boy to dunk,”
he’s published various opinion, theoretical, and scholarly papers,
and most impressively, he makes an attempt at his own 100 words.
Did I mention modest?