The Mafioso and the Cycle and other Biking Tales

I once met a Mafioso at the Farmers Market in West Hollywood.  Yeah, not exactly where I would’ve pictured an old school Godfather type – hanging out near such a touristy spot – but there he was: big white collared shirt, opened so I could see his big gold chain, sport coat, slacks, and a cigarette in a little golden holder. Why’d I assume he was a Gangster?  Guess it was the same way you know a tanned twenty-something sporting Bermuda shorts, asking for Sex Wax is a surfer.  Admittedly,... Read The Rest →