By Grand Central Station I Sat Down and Pedaled.

How many bikes is too many?

In the past I had a clear rule: anything more than two bicycles in my life at one time was a recipe for disaster. This spring I'm up to 4.5, the most I've ever had; my apartment is like a train station for bikes. Everywhere you look there's one, waiting to go somewhere.

The newest is an Opus Stelle, a pearly white 'cross machine, brand-new from the sponsor; then there's the Blue TR250, my bad-ass track racer I've had lying around since this winter, followed by the road bike (Allez Comp) with the new wheels, and the old steel beater track bike for the bad weather. The .5 being my de-commissioned Schwinn road bike w. Campag Athena brakes, now boxed up in the closet. It's just frame, fork, handlebar, and derailleurs at this point and I should really get rid of the damned thing, minus the brakes.

I have a photo of them all jammed into the hallway, that should really be in this very post, but alas it is not. Meanwhile in China, eight million people have no where to live post-earthquake. See? We all have problems.