This occurred the evening of Lincoln's birthday. Dress up in tweed outfits, ride bikes, make new friends. Why tweed? What is more anti-spandex than this rough unfinished woolen fabric? It shows us that cycling is not just a sweaty sport, but a social and/or cultural activity. Even though profuse prespiration is a distinct possibility, you don't dress in sweats to go dancing, do you? No. You dress to look "hella fine", or in this case-- dapper. Would love to see the second ride in the daytime.
For some way lovelier pics than this, go here.
Gary Fisher couldn't be missed in his custom tailored outfit complete with reflective threads. Even the cap is reflecting the flash.
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And to think that I ever missed SF. Thank you fashion douches of the SF Tweed Ride. I'm okay now. Not only can I survive outside of the safe haven of SF, I see now that I am thriving.
So long San Francisco, I loved you.
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