Today we went to two bike shops. We weren’t looking for anything in particular; just getting to know the shops in town.

First we stopped at one that we discovered on our first trip here. A lovely, quirky, shop. Modern enough to keep K happy, but not just the Big Box Brands. We browsed happily, engaging in such serious debates as whether a certain set of handlebars was “moustachey” enough and the aesthetic benefits of tan sidewall tires.

Then we ventured across town to a local chain-type place. There were impatient triathletes sulking in corners (I kid you not), and rack after rack of carbon fiber road bikes. K picked up a carbon fiber saddle that neither flexed nor gave in the slightest, but was on half the bikes in the store. I guess it’s the lightest. And while I’m not opposed to modern technology when it’s merited, this shop seriously worshipped the new and shiny.

On our way out the door, K said, “That shop has no soul.” I couldn’t have said it better myself.

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