At 7:21pm I'm driving toward Philadelphia on route 3. I'm picking up Nat and Caroline, and together we'll head to Trexlertown for the spring bicycle swap meet at the velodrome. The swap is tomorrow: we're camping out to avoid a bleary-eyed early drive.
Before all that, I'm going to see Shelly. If you don't know who she is, I'll fill you in. She was my girlfriend for a thousand years and we narrowly missed getting married. It's fine and friendly to talk, but seeing her setup in Philly is seeing a vestige of something familiar that was once also mine. The good thing is I'm actually happier now, and anti-jealous of the living situation. The tripped out and warped part is seeing all of the shit that we owned collectively. The worst is the bed and the dog, and the familiar feeling of laying on the bed with the dog. No: the worst is seeing the dog's face as you walk out the door. Penny. My 9-year-old puppy.
Next I went to a get-together with beer and people who I haven't seen in a little bit. I stayed for a short period, then it was time to hit the road. Nat drove my house while I sat in the chair and Caroline had shot. We heard some NPR. We got to the grass covered field adjacent to the velodrome parking lot around 2am. This is where the overflow parking will be tomorrow when people arrive in a massive influx. Already here are about twenty cars and the tents of other people who came early to avoid a tired A.M. drive. A bunch of hip skinny bicycle dorks, more or less. Nat and Caroline had a tent; I slept in top-comfort inside my mansion. There's nothing like an awesome parking spot and waking up right where you need to be in the morning. Van living: seriously really good.
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