I have a bike in San Francisco.  After one especially stressful hearing, we were returning to the hotel room and passed another guest wheeling a cool-looking bicycle down the hall.

Me: Cool bike!

Woman with cool bike: Wanna buy it?

Me: Yes.

And so I came to own a bike in San Francisco.  I quickly learned several important things about my new bike.  The previous owner was a much taller woman than I am.  And the bike has 21 gears.  I have figured out the height adjustments — though I’m convinced I look something like this:

As for the gears, I pedal along happily in what appears to be gear 14, and am still waiting for someone to tell me what to do with the other 20.

The bike purchase was quickly followed by the bike helmet purchase, the bike lock purchase, and of course the bike rack purchase — as I had not, in my rash original purchase — thought about where the bike would fit in the van when we drive to and from SFO, along with the boxes of office supplies that live in the van, the suitcases we schlep each time, and our 6-foot-tall assistant, Dustin.   To this equipment were added a pair of old running shoes from home and a set of rubber bands from the office supply box, so that when I pedal around Emeryville, I look really truly Extra Dorky:

And this being one town over from Berkeley, all of us comrades get

whereas in capitalist Denver, we have to shell out 25 cents.   Ultimately, though, this whole post was just one big excuse to share these photos, taken about half a mile from our regular hotel in Emeryville, while Tim did the real work of preparing for the hearing that brought us here.

Additional dorkiness obvious in the shadow.