All You Haters Unfold My Dahon
So, I've reached the milestone at which I'm supposed to be figuring out whether or not I'm going to be able to carry on normally with this injury, but of course, "normal" for me includes what everyone else refers to as "avid cycling." A year from now is not the ideal time to learn that would have needed surgery after all.
So yesterday evening I walked Scooty-Puff the Spunky Folding Bike over to TATI to join His Snobbiness for the ride up to Lincoln Square, with the mistaken impression that it was going to be a "social" ride. Silly me, it was actually the other kind of social ride, in which roadies wear Normal Clothes but still act like roadies. I was dropped like a Beautiful Godzilla on 20-inch wheels, because that's exactly what I am now.
So I got off the Lakefront Trail at Roosevelt, dismounted, and walked to the L, because that's what you're supposed to do with a folding bike anyway, and also because there's no way in hell I'm riding in traffic by myself for a long, long time. I'm just going to have to wait until the next Tweed Ride or whatever.
I miss my Cross-Check. I miss the person I used to be when I was on it.