This morning my lovely girlfriend and I got up at 6:15, had eggs and vitamins and tea (well, she had tea, I had pepsi) and bicycled to Öskjuhlíð to play on the bicycle ramps there.

Why?

Because we wanted to.

And because we knew there wouldn't be any damn kids there to laugh at us old farts going carefully up the ramps, wobbling a bit at the top and then screeching with glee as we slowly braked down the slopes on the other side.

I think my front wheel left the ground a bit once or twice. It was very exciting.

Annie, being a few years younger than me, did quite a bit better. By the time I managed to drag her away from the ramps and send her off to work, she had mastered the backwards summersaults and was working on that funny spinning trick done with the front wheel while flying through the air. Awesome.

Rad, even.

I didn't feel inferior at all though, because I had the good sense to wear my red knitted hat, thus emulating the fashion of young 'uns these days. I was way hipper than she was.

...

I got the hat idea from the teens who popped into the RPC last night with their skateboards demanding pizza slices and attention from the cute waitresses. They got attention, but no pizza.

They were all wearing hats just like mine. Cool.

...

I wonder if this gets me points in that "bicycle to work" contest that's going on these days?