The slow ache of my hip flared up in pain. I pounded the hell out of my hip bone like a butcher would to tenderize his beef.  I stretched it  so far I could hear the vessels inside my muscles worm around, and inched my toe to the other side of the room until I heard I satisfying popping sound.  Since moving to Pittsburgh my lifestyle has changed a bit, less moving and more eating.  Short brief walks outside to the car are now replacing 10 minute walks I took to get to every station.  Three flights of stairs has been reduced to one flight and the only walking I am doing, besides my small personal adventure walks, is in and around parking lots.  Gone are days where I walk with 30lbs of laundry to the nearest laundry mat, juggling a gallon of soap and some dryer sheets lodged in my mouth.  It’s a new lifestyle adjustment that I have to well, adjust too.  Davidson, around 5 o’clock today, left me in bed in my underwear to facebook, blog, masturbate etc and a full night of solitude.  I sat around for a while, watching episodes of John Stewart and taking multiple trips to the refrigerator.  After a few episodes I get what I call I.A.D.D  (Internet attention deficit disorder) browsing around half hearted for something to catch my interest.  In the mean time I  was taking resin hits to keep me company when I realized, I was that person, sitting on my bed, half naked, over fed, and stoned off black tar.  I decided I would take a another bike ride.  Despite my valiant efforts the other day,  I dressed appropriately, and headed out.  Of course, I started by flying down the streets, so fast I nearly had a heart attack.  Did I mention my overwhelming applause I give these people for getting up these monstrous hills? Anyways, I rode around for a bit, but decided to make a right onto Penn Ave.  It’s a two lane road.  Sandwiched in between everything from anarchist shops to quickie marts, Tattoo shops to a Job Core, vegan restaurants to KFC’s.   Down a ways, there is wicked cemetery that I have been eager go into since moving into the neighborhood.  I peddled down the widened sidewalk, touching my finger tips to herculean cement wall to  my right.

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"Hmmmm," he mutters, staring down the frame. "This is a do-it-yourself bike kitchen," said Mize, the volunteer manager at the site that operates on the corner of Weber Avenue and Stanislaus Street, who is on site Monday through Friday. "We provide the tools and really, really cheap parts to get your bike back on the road again. Mize retreats to a chain-link cage inside the parking lot of the Plea for Peace Center in downtown Stockton that is the Stockton Bike Kitchen. "A lot of them are expecting us to say $20 to $30 and we say $2 or $3 and they're super happy," said Jason Spohn, who supervises on Sundays. Parts clang as he sifts through a box before emerging with a pair of curved handlebars. It's a haven for local cyclists in need of parts, advice and tools to fix up their rides on the cheap. A pair of bicycle forks can go for $2.

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