living the dream

I never really finished up on the rundown of the Toronto experience... because there isn't a whole lot that's really that noteworthy. I watched some polo until the tournament paused for the main race, then packed up and was already headed out of town right before the downpour. Cut to: montage of this boy driving through the Canadian countryside. Cut to: this upstanding citizen getting hassled at the US Border by his own border patrol. Cut to: this boy arrives home and gets (mostly) unpacked.

In the meantime, it occurs to me the fulfillment of a dream from long ago. Not exactly the plot of the dream, but the right scene. Could've been, but wasn't. You know how they say that, when you're studying a foreign language, the way you know that you've achieved proficiency (dare I say fluency?) is that you recognize that you are dreaming in that language? Well, this dream comes from a different bike-heavy period of my life. I don't remember the whole thing, but a moment, an image: for some reason I'm on a ferry as it's landing/docking (whatever the ferry-appropriate verb is), and as I'm walking down the ramp past the line of passengers waiting to get on the ferry, there's this amazing beautiful brunette woman with a backpack, and she's got this really really sweet bike. Chrome lugs, tasteful, elegant, functional, suave.

In the dream, the first thing through my mind? "Wow, cool bike." The second thing? "Oooh, she's pretty." That's when you know you've got bikes on the brain, and bad.

... so I got off the Toronto Island Ferry (a couple times over the weekend), and while there were no brunette hotties attached to pristine classic road bikes there to fulfill my prophetic dream, there were lots of people of varying hotness, attached to bikes of varying levels of awesome and not-so-awesome.

Maybe that counts as dream-fulfillment. Maybe I'll just keep an eye out on future ferry rides.