Never Too Much

76 degrees today and it's a whole new world.

Of course, that meant the ants arrived in my kitchen, not the full colony but definitely a scouting party out on a sunny afternoon. I don't know where they've been all these cold months, but they're baaack.

The real pleasure was in getting to take my first shower in 2019 with the large bathroom window fully open (and by large, I mean 3' x 3' not bad for a room often designed with notoriously small windows). What was truly glorious was getting out the shower and not feeling cold. I could get used to this.

When Mr. Wright showed up, we ambled over to the Main Library for a presentation by Adventure Cycling Association, a group that does everything it can to get ordinary people on two wheels and doing cycling trips that involve overnight stays.

So, as you can imagine, I fit right in like a sore thumb.

That's not true because on the table next to all the cycling magazines laid out for the taking were boxes and boxes of Red Eye cookies and I can eat with the best of them, so I snagged a chocolate chunk cookie and got out of the way of cyclists looking for fuel.

When the presentation began, the first thing the guy said was, "There's one cookie left, so if you're a sprinter, go for it now." With my cookie tucked safely inside a napkin, no sprinting was required on my part.

First there was a video showing two non-cyclists setting out on their first cross-country trip and documenting it, like millennials do. The video showed them hot and sweaty, eating everything in sight at a restaurant, facing the mountain they were about to climb ("Death," she predicts) and having a dance party on a deserted road. When they finally got to the 1,000 mile mark and he got excited, she pointed out that, "It only took us, like, 48 days."

Apparently such are the pleasures of cycling as transportation.

Next came a passionate cyclist/big cheese with ACA who basically waxed poetic about the joys of bicycle travel and bicycle tourism while showing us what he called, "Bike travel porn." Heart-stopping views of two people next to their bikes in Switzerland, pedaling along the Rhine River, laying in a field in Tuscany with their bikes laying on the ground near them.

As to how he got all those great shots, it's part of the ACA ethos to send them a photo of you on a cycling journey.

But every now and then, he'd slide in something to fuel the movement. He shows us a picture of him and the Professor of Bike Tourism in Australia, gushing, "That's a job!"

Reminder: we can make this happen.

Then back to a shot of Quebec bathed in golden light and some very happy and tired people posing next to something interesting, their bikes at their side. The return of bike travel porn.

He tells the audience that Alaska was the first state to pave roads for cyclists. I heard about the new Johnny Cash Trail that loops around Folsom, with public art (like a 30' high rendering of Cash) and trail markers shaped like guitar picks. About the Underground Railroad Bicycle Route which starts off in Mobile, Alabama. He showed maps featuring all the new trails and how they're driving cycle tourism.

"And cyclists go to small towns, not just big cities," he enthused. "And they eat a lot!" Tell me about it. Those cookies were history just like drunk women's shoes after the wedding ceremony is over.

One guy went cross country and carried a hand lawnmower so he could earn money along the way to pay for his ride.

By the time the talk was over, every cyclist in the room (so, everyone in the room except me) was psyched, pumped up, feeling the call of the multi-day ride. So many routes, so many vistas, so many potential Instagram posts.

And adventures, I know, I know.

Afterward, conversations sprung up between less experienced people wanting to talk to cross country pros, while I had my eye on the prize. Food. Bike travel porn only get a girl so far.

We dipped into Bar Solita where every booth was taken but the bar was completely empty, sort of Edward Hopper-ish. Not a bicycle in sight.

And we ate. A lot. Maybe I do have the makings of a cyclist after all.

Nah.

'Zine Fest Delivers So Much More

If you've never been to Richmond's annual 'Zine Fest, you can't imagine what you're missing. Technically, it's a DIY literary and artistic event, but that's far too simplistic a description for the roomful of passionate people and talented writers and artists who comprise the event.

Walking the large room at the Gay Community Center affords an opportunity to meet 'zinesters from all over the east coast, peruse their work and discover what their passions are. I found myself caught up in all kinds of interesting conversations with strangers at table after table.

And I love the creativity of zine titles. There was Fort Mortgage: First Time Home Buying for Punks, Coffeehouse Crushes: Tales of Love and Lust in Coffeehouses, Cuddle-Puddles and Hotpants, Cryptic Slaughter, and Hoax: Feminism and Relationships, to name all too few, but all of which caught my eye and insisted I pick them up and check them out.

I was talking to a 'zinester who asked me, "Are you tabling?" and I had to laugh, saying that while I can write, I have no artistic talent whatsoever, not even basic cut and paste skills. Turns out he was impressed that I was an attendee because of my age.

"It's so cool to see someone here who's over 18," he explained. "Not that you don't look nineteen, because you totally do, but you know what I mean. It's great that you were interested enough to come out. Wish more people would." And, blatant lie aside, I did know what he meant.

Another guy was a valet who write 'zines about hating his job and his dreams of improvements in RVA's bike friendliness and safety. "VCU will have to get involved for bike lanes to happen," he predicted.

He told me he bikes to work nine miles, commuting from Church Hill to the near West End. He mentioned how few cyclists he sees in his neighborhood, then shares the road with plenty in the city center and then they disappear again on the other side of the Museum District.

As a person who bikes semi-regularly, I can relate. I see plenty of bikers where I live and play, but no bike lanes. It's a serious flaw in a city that otherwise has a great quality of life. It's something I would love to see addressed by the city. Portland and Cambridge can do it; why can't we?

He also made the point that unfortunately, the people who tend to come to the 'Zine Fest are the people already involved in the causes they support. "We're preaching to the choir here," he said ruefully.

It's too bad really, because I do think a wider audience would not only benefit from the exposure but gain knowledge of all kinds of subculture groups and movements going on in Richmond, some of which might be of interest to them.

Yes there are anarchists and union supporters, but also groups devoted to feminist discussions, feeding the homeless, vinyl lovers, over-caffeination and sexuality of every kind. Something for everyone, I'd hazard to say.

It would be a shame to think that there's anyone who can't get behind a good cuddle-puddle, if you know what I'm saying.