I made it. Nothing’s unpacked, the bed is on the ground in the middle of the bedroom, but obviously the road bike is together and operational. I don’t know if you’ve ever had the chance to ride a bike in Boulder, but if you haven’t, DON’T! It’s not worth it. Almost every single road has these weird bike lanes you’re entitled to. And drivers actually yield to you, especially when they’re turning right across the bike lane and into the turn lane. What’s up with that? Give me my sharrows! Give me my need to smack taxis with my hand to let them know that turning right at this exact moment will mean squished Liam! Dammit!
And then there are the routes. I can tell I will get very sick of them. It’s like, go up this mountain, go up that mountain, rocket down this descent, ride for hours on this flat road east of the city that goes on and on forever and literally has a bike lane the whole way. It’s so annoying having so many options. Like yesterday, for instance, I only had about an hour to ride, and I really just wished I could have spent 30 minutes riding up Damen until I got to Evanston, only to turn right around and come back, making 40 stops at various stop signs and stop lights along the way. But noooooo, that doesn’t exist here. They don’t have Sheridan Road, nor Ogden. So instead, I had to ride up this road called Flagstaff Mountain. The views were OK, but gosh, I had to share the road with about eight cars and maybe 40 bikes. It gets on my nerves already when I think about how uninterrupted the riding is. I want more stop lights on Flagstaff.