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I finally decided to take my bike wheel down to citybikes today so I could use their pump to put in a new tube. When I was halfway there, I spotted some girls having a yard sale. I saw some bikes nearby, so I asked them if they had a bikepump I could use. Before I could finish my sentence, I spotted an old red pump.

I hadn't seen one like this in years. I remember having one in my parent's garage when I was a kid. This is a good pump, I thought. I felt a bond with it, smiling at it as I worked, trying not to give the impression that I wasn't exactly sure what I was doing.

One of the girls told me that they were having the sale to raise money to put on a show called Bands Against Bush. She was very nice. I wished I could have bought something to help them out, but I had no cash with me. As soon as I got home and put my wheel back on, I searched my apartment for cash. All I could find was 30 cents, but I went back and gave it to them anyway. They gave me a cookie.

I love you, Portland.

I didn't stay to chat. It's the kind of day where you can die of exhaustion if you stay in one place too long, so I peddled on. Overgrown lawns and loved houses passed by on either side of me as I rode. I let myself get lost in the experience of a beautiful day, and emerged on Hawthorne Avenue.

I decided on a destination, the trendy strip of shops around the 30-something streets, but before I could reach it, my handlebars turned toward Ladd's Addition and now I was navigating bumpy alleyways without a destination.

I turned left, I turned right, I circled roundabouts twice. Love! This place is magical.

SE Division, near the train tracks is where I came out of this parallel dimension. I peddled up Division awhile, and turned right at the Red & Black. Once I got to Clinton Street, I noticed an inordinate amount of yard sales. I thought of stopping at the first one, but remembered I had no cash. Each one after that made me curioser and curioser.

Then, the explanation hit me with a blast of PA sound. There were two entire intersections closed off nearby, and they were having a neighborhood festival in the street.

I love you, Portland.

There were people in extravagent costumes on stilts, all sorts of kids on bikes, people selling all kinds of delicious foods, and music, and dancing, and everything else you could possibly want in a good acid trip.

I circled around the party a few times, thinking about stopping to enjoy it awhile, maybe even make some new friends. But, again I decided that my peddle legs are restless, it's too hot to stand still, and who ever meets anybody in the daytime?

I've never thought about it before, but I can't remember the last time I met a stranger in the daytime, and then became friends with that person.

So I rode, feeling that by simply coming upon the festival, I had experienced it as completely as I could at that time. I headed back home, thinking that I couldn't possibly go any further. That festival was obviously the edge of my known universe for today. Anything past it must be vacuous and dark.