Adventures in teaching,
riddles & conundrums;
essays like curiosity,
stories as photos & vitality art;
getting lost &
I’m Andrew Titus.
I can admit this, I guess: I tried to ignore what happened this past weekend, tried to be all cool and aloof from the…
Listen, I get it for sure, it’s not rocket science or brain surgery or even learning your pentatonic scale: as a matter of fact,…
Prologue: On bikes I’m being very sincere when I say this: that while most people probably can ride a bike and that I am…
In 1991, when I was 21, after thrashing around in the woods of Marysville and Fredericton Junction for years riding whatever bike was going,…
I’ve spent a lot of time in the basement this winter and spring; tinkering, one might say, micro-adjusting, putting an almost insatiable curiosity to…
A couple of years ago my oldest sister Ellen passed away. I know that sounds blunt, but that’s how death rolls; no one ever goes like…
In this space I’ll be letting people have their say about the bike they ride — why they love it, maybe some myth, maybe just a lot of gushing. And who knows, maybe we’ll all learn a little about our humanity. Maybe, in our relationship to this most simple, elegant, and powerful of artful machines we will see something of ourselves rarely acknowledged otherwise.
In grade 4, M moved here from Saudi Arabia. His dad bought him a bike when he got here, but the brake didn’t work so well.
I, like this bike, await its owner to return from whatever battle, or wait for a tree to sprout under it and carry it toward the heavens.
“I’ve never liked pink, but when I got it… like, just look at it! It’s SO SICK! I can’t imagine ever getting rid of it. It’s just the best bike.”
“…it’s simple, it’s my everything bike: commuter, gravel, cyclocross, everything.”
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