From the Streets of Sacramento...

There's a great old Cake song called Arco Arena with a chorus that goes like this: "From the streets of Sacramento to the freeways of LA.  There's no single explanation there's no central destination..."  This post won't discuss the freeways of LA, but feel free to sing along as you read anyway.

There's something truly special and song-worthy about those wide, warm avenues.  A couple weeks ago I had the opportunity to ride a bike through midtown sac, and I felt like I was swimming through honey.  Gliding through something perfectly warm and pleasant, doing my best to absorb the lovely air.  The streets are broad, flat, and quiet.  The trees are tall, numerous, and full, and the energy is slow and steady.

Flash to Market Street in downtown San Francisco on a Thursday evening.  It's loud, crowded, potholed, crammed with buses, motorists, cyclists, tourists, and urchins.  Cold win blows strong from the West, and the energy is frenetic, unsettled, anxious and irritable.  I wear my gear like armor - helmet, glasses, gloves, jacket, padded shorts, yellow shoes; I'm zipped up and strapped down tight; I move in straight lines, my body tense and eyes focused on the traffic signal in front of me or glancing quickly backwards at the buses behind me.

Let's go back to Sacramento.  I wear a tshirt with no helmet; I move in lazy loops through the sweet stillness;  i gaze side to side, I sing "Jolene" by Ray Lamontagne.  A stark contrast indeed.