NO HANDS! NO BRAKES! NO CLOTHES! The True Story of the of the Yodeling Lesson, By Moe Bowstern, bicyclist: I was recently arrived in Portland from Chicago and always on my bike, delighted by this rainy city of manageable size and climate, generous, well-paved streets and hills! After the endless flat grind of the prairie city, hills were a daily thrill. I began teasing my way no-handed down Mississippi Hill, venturing further and further before seizing my handlebars. One morning I threw my leg over my bicycle with a bad case of the f*ckits, heading to the train station to bid a dear friend farewell, and I decided I just did not care. I stuck my chin into the wind and kept my hands off the handlebars all the way down. By the time I arrived exhilarated at Union Station, I no longer cared about my departing comrade; I could ride no-handed down Mississippi Hill! I was going to be fine! ...
0.0/10NO HANDS! NO BRAKES! NO CLOTHES! The True Story of the of the Yodeling Lesson, By Moe Bowstern, bicyclist: I was recently arrived in Portland from Chicago and always on my bike, delighted by this rainy city of manageable size and climate, generous, well-paved streets and hills! After the endless flat grind of the prairie city, hills were a daily thrill. I began teasing my way no-handed down Mississippi Hill, venturing further and further before seizing my handlebars. One morning I threw my leg over my bicycle with a bad case of the f*ckits, heading to the train station to bid a dear friend farewell, and I decided I just did not care. I stuck my chin into the wind and kept my hands off the handlebars all the way down. By the time I arrived exhilarated at Union Station, I no longer cared about my departing comrade; I could ride no-handed down Mississippi Hill! I was going to be fine! ...
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