17°F (-8°C).
Blizzard.
He prepares for his commute as usual.
Dragging the 60lb beast down the snow-covered concrete steps.
The snow is deep and I grow a little alarmed. "Are you sure you'll be able to cycle in that snow?..."
"No problem," he assures me cheerfully, putting on his convertible mitten-gloves.
And, with the quiet chuckle of a man who has conquered nature, he is off into the blizzard. I scurry back indoors to drink hot coffee and put on a second pair of wool socks.
Pictures taken with his mobile phone upon arrival to work. Lucky for the Pashley, his workplace provides secure indoor bike parking.
Ride report (in a boyishly excited tone):
Dragging the 60lb beast down the snow-covered concrete steps.
The snow is deep and I grow a little alarmed. "Are you sure you'll be able to cycle in that snow?..."
"No problem," he assures me cheerfully, putting on his convertible mitten-gloves.
And, with the quiet chuckle of a man who has conquered nature, he is off into the blizzard. I scurry back indoors to drink hot coffee and put on a second pair of wool socks.
Pictures taken with his mobile phone upon arrival to work. Lucky for the Pashley, his workplace provides secure indoor bike parking.
Ride report (in a boyishly excited tone):
"It was so dangerous. I only got off the bike once to cross a snow bank in [Harvard] Square. The worst part was snow in the eyes and face. The bike kept sliding but was going and controllable. Pretty amazing. The worst conditions in a while. Took me 20 minutes instead of 10."Should I be worried?
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