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Couch hunting: riverside break, originally uploaded by Mark Stosberg.

Another successful day of couch hunting.

I was unsure how I would load and unload this 225 pound waterlogged triple recliner by myself. But just at the right moments, friendly strangers showed up to help.

The rules of engagement are simple:

1. Cruise alleyways to find a suitable abandoned couch or other furniture, totaling 300 lbs or less.

2. Tie down acquired furniture to cargo trailer.

3. Proceed to city dump, choosing the flattest route possible. Ride onto the scales and get report of you total weight. Subtract the “tare weight” of the rider, bike and trailer. The final total is your score for the trip.

Steps 1 through 3 may be repeated to raise your total score for the day.

A second rider in bright attire is helpful to function as a flag vehicle, to alert traffic that there is a slow-moving 18 foot pedal-driven couchmobile up ahead.

A skillful flag vehicle may also be help to push the load up a hill, while steering with the other hand.

My total scale weight for this trip: 450. Final weight after subtracting the tare weight: About 150 lbs.

We spotted several more potential prey along the way. There will be plenty of good couch hunting this season.

Updated August 23rd, 2008. See corrected math and discussion in the comments.

I was recently asked: "How can get around town by bike without going up and down so many hills?"

Avoiding hills is often not an option, so I have to re-frame the question in order to answer it: "How I can be comfortable riding in hilly terrain?".

For a cyclist used to driving, there may be an adjustment about what to expect. A car may (unnaturally) travel the same speed up a hill, across the ridge line and back down it.

Bikes tend go much slower up hills and much faster down them. I've come to appreciate this. It's participation in the natural rhythm of gravity. It makes kicking back with cruise control and watching the world through a screen seem all the more eerie.

With the sun rising in the distance, I found myself staring at a golden bicycle, abandoned by a dumpster. I'm not talking about a standard golden paint job. This was an all-over, no holds barred spray paint job. The seat was golden. The tires were golden. The water bottle cage was golden.

I stood there contemplating it, awestruck and contemplating it's story. Was this an Earlham "Community" bike, a re-habbed free ride, intentionally ugly to avoid theft? Perhaps it was stolen, painted gold to mask it's true identity. Or It could have been an art project. One last golden hurrah before the junk pile.

This post is available as an audio clip.

This is the story of why I traded in my car for a bicycle.

It's not that many people have asked about this. Rather I have sensed that people wonder about this unusual lifestyle choice and do not ask.

My story isn't going to be about lifestyle comparison or counting karma points. I want to convey the emotional parts of this transition.

I had some selfish reasons for wanting to get rid of my car. I don't particularly like driving them or riding in them. I don't know how to fix them if they break, and I'm not interested to learn. I didn't like car down payments, car insurance payments, car gas payments, car breakdown payments and car break-in payments.