welcome!

I ran to the devil. He was waitin’…I cried ‘Power!’ – Sinnerman, Nina Simone Boywich and I used to have conversations about feeling that we were beings placed out of time, or into the wrong time. Mostly we would talk about being Renaissance people – built to do a variety of creative things, none of
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Little girls

I am collecting little girls on bikes. I know that sounds weird, but listen. Between riding my bike to take care of errands and bike-ride rides, I am on the bike just about every day. That means I spend a lot of time on ordinary streets, on bike boulevards, and on mixed-use (read: everything but
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Well, here I am. Again. For those of you (and I think it must be most of you) who don’t know, I used to write here. Quite often. Girlwich had two lifetimes – one from about 2002 or 3 until about 2006 when the great Movable Type crash destroyed several years’ worth of words –
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Dear Boy, You are wonderful. I have no idea what to do with that, though I like it very much. Please continue to have patience with me. Thank you. Love, Me, trying to remember how to be less-than-supergirl, and more than solitary.

I’ve been trying to start a post about what it takes to make bicycle infrastructure really work by giving some personal context about my years in #bikenyc. I’ve been trying, but I keep getting too emotionally jacked up and putting it away for later. And then not getting the post written. So let me say
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I go to my fathers, in whose mighty company I shall not now feel ashamed. – Theoden, King of Rohan, his next-to-final words. It wouldn’t sound strange, perhaps, to a friend who knew me really, really well, but I imagine most people who’d met me casually would be surprised to learn that I identify with
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As pretty does

Bicycle clothing manufacturers seem to be under the impression that no one will be able to tell I’m a girl unless I’m covered in flowers. And that any confusion in gender identity would be the worst fate that could befall the human race. God forbid a woman should ever look fierce, or strong, or even
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I need to tell you something. Bicyclists are human. This shouldn’t need telling. That it needs telling tells me there’s something seriously wrong. I shouldn’t have to say that calling a person on a bicycle less than human, an acceptable target for your road rage, or even just for your contempt, is racism – attached
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I’ve been wanting to take real pictures again (as opposed to crappy iPhone ones), but I keep forgetting to bring my camera. Also forgetting to charge its battery. I have two cameras. No wait, three. No wait, four. It would be easy to bring one. If I could just…remember. But I can’t remember to take
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The View From The Other Side Of The Windshield

A few weeks ago my bicyclist boyfriend and I took a trip to the Oregon Coast. It was a lovely trip, in all, but it meant that I spent several hours behind the wheel of a rental car, much of it in hard rain. I should preface this by saying that I’m not a nervous
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