I rode home after work last night.  There was a phone message from the Lake City Post Office saying they found my wallet in a mailbox, and I could pick it up Saturday morning. 
I was shocked because I knew my wallet was downstairs where I left it when I got home.  I wan nowhere near Lake City yesterday.  Still, I went downstairs to check.  There it was, on the workbench where I left it.
I did lose a wallet years ago.  I didn't remember when.  Back then I went to a shoe store on Capitol Hill, got home, and noticed my wallet was missing.  Panicked, I drove back to where I parked near the shore store, looked around, but couldn't find it.  I came home, canceled my credit cards, and starting replacing my I.D. cards and drivers license.
When I got to the Post Office today and told the clerk who I was, she went in the back of the Post Office and then brought my wallet out to the counter.  I didn't even remember what it looked like until I saw it.
Everything was there, just like it was the day I lost it - drivers license, ID cars, credit cards, my business card.  Two special things in that wallet were important to me - a ticket stub from a visit to Ellis Island in New York City, and my Vanpool drivers certificate.  My grandparents came to America through Ellis Island.  When I was at Ellis Island, I choked up standing at the top of the stairs they walked down when they were admitted to America.  The Vanpool certificate is a silly thing, but I like it.
The Post Office found me by calling my phone number on my business card.  There was a bus pass from February, 2008 - almost 9 years ago.  The three or four dollars I had in the wallet when I lost it was the only thing missing. 
The clerk told me they occasionally find wallets in mailboxes, but was shocked when I told her I lost it almost 9 years ago.

Who had my wallet for almost 9 years?  Why didn't they take the cash and throw the wallet away?  Why didn't they steal my identity?  Who dropped the wallet in a Lake City mailbox yesterday morning?
Did the finder forget about the wallet and then stumble on it on a shelf or in a drawer and decide to turn it in?  Maybe a spouse or  family member found it in the finder's possessions.  Maybe the finder died and a spouse/friend/child found it while sorting through their belongings? 

I think the finder is a jerk for keeping my wallet all this time, but I appreciate that they did not harm my Ellis Island ticket stub. 

The Wright Brothers Cycles wheelbuilding class in Fremont is fast approaching, and I haven't decided on hubs for my wheels.  New or used?  Expensive or inexpensive?  Servicable or disposable bearings?  There's 6 choices already.  Then, consider if the bike should be all serviceable bearings, or if it could have serviceable wheels and a non-serviceable bottom bracket?  I have Shimano Ultegra hubs with serviceable cup-and-cone bearings, and I like those.  The Campagnolo BB I just bought from a guy on Craigslist would make the bike's bearings all serviceable, but mixing Shimano and Campagnolo? That's not the orderly setup I need.  Is this telling me something about myself?  This is what obsession looks like.

I am a USA Cycling Level C official, and work at USAC-sanctioned bicycle road and track racing events in my area.  Becoming a USAC official is easy - attend an afternoon seminar and get a 70% grade on an open book test.  Getting the experience to be a good official is hard.  The USAC Rule Book is complicated, races are a fast-moving blur, and the other more-experienced officials are too busy or involved with their responsibilities to explain much.  You have to be willing to pick it up as you go, make "new-guy" mistakes, and tolerate having the racers, the race promoter and the other officials thinking you are a dumb-ass.  Leave your pride at home, ask questions until the other officials don't feel like answering anymore, and write down what they tell you because you can't possibly remember it all.  At the end of my first race year, I think I have progressed to semi dumb-ass, and I'm proud of that.

I started a blog to explain to the world (and myself) how I bike, why I bike, and how I think bicycling is cool.