My route took me out to where I could see San Francisco across a hazy gray Bay. I passed a set of apartment buildings that we looked at in Alameda back in October – nothing on Shoreline Drive has any soul, but they have a great view. As the sun was setting and impending storm clouds gathered, I headed back. Unfortunately, I hit a pothole and blew out my front tire. I rode very carefully to the Golden Hours liquor store, and waited for the 53 bus to take me up Fruitvale Avenue.
One thing I learned on this ride is that every town has a different name for those traffic slowing devices in the road.
Oakland has bumps, Berkeley has humps, and Alameda has lumps.