morning commute chronicles: signs of.

There's a difference between year-round bike commuters and the fair weather variety, and it's not just the self-righteousness, although that's certainly the most strident feature of Portland's rainy cyclists. The faded raincoats and worn panniers belie the sunglasses and shorty-shorts. We've been eroded for months; our rust and mildew, resistant to scraping, is starting to dry and fall away with the sun. Our bikes stay clean longer, and look shinier and newer than the garage-protected sleeping beauties that took five months off. Looks of confusion - when did the Broadway Bridge get so crowded? why are there so many cruisers? I didn't know they made saddles that wide! It's like a surfboard! - pass over our faces (which, I'm certain, are slightly more aged due to weather-beating) on sunny days like the ones we're having now. Timid riders who have forgotten the fearlessness with which bikers can own the roads look askance at the bikers who juke in and around traffic with ease. The bike racks of Portland will soon be over capacity, so I'm enjoying this shoulder season with all the human signs of spring. Welcome back, prodigal bikers!