Nice Form

• After studying the latest AP Photos from last weekend's pre-Presidential lakefront bicycle ride, I realized that Mr. Obama must share a closet with my good friend Vincent. Both are tall, rail-thin brothers with excellent posture and too-low saddles. Each rides in belted jeans and a button-down or polo shirt, running sneakers, and tube socks. But Vincent actually makes it out for Tuesday and Thursday drills with the Tatitos, whereas good old Barack is busy doing who-knows-what at six in the morning.

  While the Family Obama was strolling down the LFP over the weekend, I was busy outriding tornados in the western suburbs: dodging bottles, getting flats, soaking and ruining my mobile phone. And that's probably a good thing, because I received several messages from industry glitterati offering a special invitation to tonight's Obama fundraiser, right here in Chicago, at the home of some SRAM executive. It would only set me back a convenient $2,300 of course. I responded in the conditional positive: I would donate the $2,300 as long as Barack and his Vice President would come down to order some titaniun rides for the White House. And I'd even throw in a purple one for Michelle. No answer yet, but my fingers are crossed.

  I'm told that after the media frenzy over TUCC, Hyde Park would be next. And so it begins. Last week a writer claiming to be a Reuters stringer walked by as I was washing the shop window. "This was Obama's old office, right?" he asked. I slowly nodded, attempting to look as dull and dimwitted as possible. Afraid that he might try to interview me or take a photo, I darted into the shop and returned with a stack of L.L. Bean catalogs addressed to B. Obama. "Here," I said. "I'm just cleaning out this store, and I found them in the back." The reporter grinned, but before he could say anything I rushed back into the store, locked the door, and thanked goodness that I'd wrapped the windows with newspaper.