Hell's Angels, here I come

BAM! Tough old men in beards and leather couldn't strike a scarier picture than this.

For weeks now, well ever since the sun started reflecting on Lake Washington for more than 5 hours a day, I've had the urge to bike across the I-90 bridge. There's a trail that starts probably up in the mountains somewhere, winds around the southern rim of Lake Sammamish, over Mercer Island, crosses the world's 2nd longest floating bridge, heads up a hill, through the Mt. Baker tunnel (!) and into downtown. My commute catches the second half of that trail (left) and every day I couldn't help but notice the dedicated bicyclists peddling hard through rain or shine in abslutely ridiculous neon. This is a far cry from the hellish bicycling of Bangkok, where more effort is spent dodging lorries and motorcycles, and keeping decent than bulking up massive leg muscles and/or enjoying the ride. This way didn't look too bad (except for in the rain, fog, snow, or at 5 am, or in the dark) and I wanted to join them!

So I bought a bike (used frame with newer parts).

Then found someone who lives and breaths bikes (literally).

Then BIKED IT!

Cake-o-rama, I'll tell you what. 2011's first day of 60 degrees plus and I got the best view.
Or maybe me taking in the view is the best view...
Observations from my first trail:
1) Helmets don't look good on anyone (seriously, look at the picture. Snazzy red isn't helping)
2) Big hills are sometimes easy, small hills are sometimes hard. I don't know why.
3) Bicyclists are WAY into their gear, and WAY too into neon, but they are SO friendly
4) There is a whole web of bicycle trails I had no idea existed
5) I need to get me some padded shorts