Amy Kippley

Hometown
Minneapolis, MN

Relationship with Bikes
My bike taunts me. It glares at me on days I walk past it. It's low hum laughs at me when it's more weather ready than I am. It whispers insults as I tap my brakes. It is all too aware of my dependence, and revels in it.

Favorite Ride
Short but sweet. Start on Franklin Ave heading East to Park Ave. Turn left into the bike lane. It's a straight shot with a slight curve to the right. You're only concern will be turning cabs and car doors. Perfect timing and fast legs will get you all the way through downtown to the river. Hesitating or tapping out will leave you sucking down bus exhaust while you're hassled for spare change. When you get over Washington head right to Gold Medal Park. Enjoy the view. When I feel like falling, I like Theo Worth. The laps get progressively more fun the faster you take them.

Funniest Story On The Road
The trouble with befriending cyclists as that unlike most passing pedestrians, they have no qualms or moment of hesitation when faced with the opportunity to mess with your bike. There have been countless times I've returned to my bike after locking it somewhere to find beer cans in my spokes, bearings dropped into my frame, spokie-dokes decorating my wheels, spoke cards sporting clues as to where to find my handlebars, etc.

On one particular summer evening, a group of roughly ten of us were engaged in a friendly booze cruise. Trash talking inspiring races from one location to the next. Stepping away from the table for one moment for a refill was one moment too long. Someone had slipped outside unnoticed. I returned to find my bike and two others dismantled, one of which entirely pieced apart upon a bus stop enclosure. You learn quick to carry the right tools.

Words To Live By. Fewer moving parts mean fewer broken pieces.