Bookstores! The smell of paper. The piles of stories. All the great authors pressed tightly together, spooning on the shelves. These are some of the reasons that you’re be more likely to find me in a bookstore than a bar on a Saturday night.

PING! A gaggle of serious cyclists snapped me from my reverie. It seemed I was congesting the traffic with my non-aerodynamic cut-off jeans and my relaxed tempo, so I veered off the trail and out of the way until I was passed by a blur of logos and high-tec cycling accoutrements.

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