That's how we roll... 'na mean?

Here's my bicycle (given to me by the vice principal), aka "la bici" (BEE-chee.) I've named her Beech for short. She's an old beech, as you can see. And a tough beech, too. I don't have a proper lock for this beech at the moment (just the one that locks the back tire), which isn't a good thing because Italians tend to have sticky hands. So sometimes, when I come back from Milan on the train and go to the parking lot to ride my bike back home, I get a little worried and suddenly ask myself "Oh no, where's mah beech at, yo?!" Hrhr.

On a serious note, people who ride bikes basically anywhere in Italy have a death warrant out for them. You can't ride on the sidewalks because 1. it's full of people and 2. at the end of each block, most of the time the curb isn't bike or handicap-friendly. (Poor peeps in wheelchairs gotta hop the curbs!) So I ride with the big wheels. But, in many cases, they 1. don't see me alongside 2. see me alongside and don't care. I tend to hit a lot of sideview mirrors because the streets are pretty narrow in Italy. (Accidental revenge? Hehe.) And I nearly got hit by a car today (actually I did get hit, just not hard) and I was 1. on the cross walk and 2. it was my green. In other words, I would have been streetmeat had that douchemallet not slammed on the breaks. Yeow.


Oh and by the way, this is how you say marshmallows when you're drunk: