I bicycled up to the Institute yesterday, inaugurating what I hope is a summer of arriving at work, underdressed and sweaty.
Sand Hill Road is, in addition to its status as epicenter of the venture capital world, a training ground for people who one day hope to be in the Tour de France: day and night you see people with 2% body fat riding racing bikes up and down the hill. As a result, my mountain bike with the kids’ trailer on the back looked a little out of place; but c’est la vie. It just made me a better target for this driver, who nearly ran me over.
Today I drove, in part because I had a couple things to bring to the office, but also because my daughter wanted to take her umbrella to school, and couldn’t figure out how to get it on the bike.
[To the tune of Yes, “Tempus Fugit,” from the album Drama.]