Shanghai'd

In case you hadn't already noticed from our recent adventures or previous posts, I am a huge bicycle fan. If it has two wheels and is human-powered, I'm sold. This (at times unhealthy) fascination with the bicycle led to a situation ealier this year where Laurel and I owned no less than nine bikes (and zero cars) between the two of us. We have since started divesting our collection: Laurel sold her trusty Giant mountain bike to Dipak, one of the Nepalese sherpas on our Tibet trip. I have fixed up and given away to friends a few beaters that had been left to die a dusty, boring life in an apartment complex underground garage. Today I sold our two cruisers to colleagues at work. It's amazing they managed to avoid the thieves, trucks and rust of Shanghai long enough to be sold back at the end of our three years.

But the bike count is not entirely decreasing. Ever since coming to China I have been obsessed with the iconic all-steel bikes of China's post revolutionary era. These are the machines that powered millions of workers to and from the factory every day for a lifetime. Along with a watch and a sewing machine, a Flying Pigeon bike was one of the "must-haves" for every citizen. I don't wear a watch, and can't sew, so my only chance to redeem some communist credibility was to buy a Pigeon. I can't wait to show all those lame fixies in Austin what a bike with real style looks like.