Living as I do in Portland, Oregon I occasionally find myself in Portlandia.
This happens often enough to document, so I am beginning with a moment from August, 2012.
The sun had long dropped behind the West Hills as I drove toward the Burnside Bridge. The iconic “Portland sign” was glowing in the distance. As I waited for a traffic light to change, a young woman passed in front of me on a bicycle. She was a beautiful young lady, wearing a white cotton skirt and some kind of tight fitting white bodice. She wore mid-calf lace-up leather boots. She pedaled helmet free, her long brunette curls flowing softly behind her. In the fading light she was barely visible, and her bicycle had no lights or reflectors. And it was a tall bike. A very tall bike. Ah, Portlandia.