China Truck Bike

Been in L.A. for a month. Bonding with paternal relatives. Learned how to fix a few things at the Bicycle Kitchen off Melrose. Great crew there. Community atmosphere. Replaced the brakes on my purple mountain bike and the seat post on dad's white beach cruiser. Even brought in my rusty old "China Truck Bike" that I salvaged from under a tree in Florida and hauled across the continent. That is my favorite bicycle in the whole wide world. I bought it like 10 years ago for ten bucks at a yard sale and when I moved to New York five years ago, I left it in the hands of my bike-loving network of friends, who promised to keep it in communal circulation and working order.

I've been back to visit thrice and twice I've found its tires flat and its frame decaying in the Floridian elements. It's since been restored to its original might, without compromising its old, beat up, commie aesthetic.

I have other little tales to tell of this visit to L.A. and of our way here. I hope to let them out in smaller chunks and therefore more often. Like once a day. That's after I've caught up on a backlog of updates from eastern Europe in September. I've come as far as Budapest. Next is Belgrade. Then Bucharest and onward.