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June 19, 2010
I'm having moderate success looking like I know how to ride my bike with more finesse than a four-year-old. I'm so busy congratulating myself for making it down the bike path and onto the sidewalk along Twelfth Avenue without suffering much of a heart attack that I don't notice the group of guys at the corner where I need to cross to get to the "meat" of the city. It's too late to turn around without looking like a paranoid white girl, so I proceed with flagging confidence and what I hope passes for a benign facial expression.

Continued 6/20