Despite this unfortunate scene at the staging area, Critical Mass Seattle was tons of fun. The mass itself was about a tenth the size of even a modest San Francisco turnout, but it sticks together real good, up gnarly hills and over heavily trafficked bridges and in and out of a thoroughly present police presence.
And before things got underway, Food Not Bombs Seattle handed out peanut butter and homemade plum jelly sandwiches. Size wise, SF’s event may be way more impressive, but nobody ever gave me a peanut butter and homemade plum jelly sandwich.
Seattle is nice.
Lots more pictures after the jump:
rad.
I say we fill the frenchie’s basket with PBR sandwiches next time. *oops – I meant PBJ…
Deal!
Another big difference is that Seattle’s Critical Mass riders don’t do things that cause them to all be (rightfully, IMO) called “massholes.”
“Massholes” is an insult strictly reserved for Massachusetts natives. Get it right.
I would posit that Critical Mass assholes are way worse than Massachusetts assholes, if only because Massachusetts assholes are at least avoidable, and as such, the term could be used for both.
SEXY! I love me some ass crack sweat!
What makes you so sure that’s sweat?
[...] Critical Mass Seattle Explore posts in the same categories: Cycling, Travel [...]