Buenos días and good morning.

Morning usual suspects. 

This takes place in late-October.

Bikes, beautiful sunrises and brown beans that spell coffee. Coffee that wakes me up, liquid that makes me function, a ritual that has complete control over me and I willingly become part of it, every day - every rising morning.
I think, more often I don't, I ride, I sweat, I smile and then I feel alive. I'm a nightowl as well, but there is something so beautiful about early mornings that serenates me and has a tranquil effect on my energy.

Until I ride over puke near civic center.
What, do you think it all smells as good as coffee all the time!?  =)
Workers hosing and washing down dive bar mats in the AMs, are like little angels. They say good morning almost all the time, some of them wave "que pasó baby" and for instances as such, I used a little water to rinse the evidence of someone's much fun the night before.

Riding in the City is full of smells punching your nose left and right. And it never stops.
One word (year-round): fenders