The spring of our two-wheeled discontent
by RL PolicarEverybody missed spring this spring. From a May so perversely chilly the birds considered migrating back, to a June that was like a mugging in a steamroom, was there even one day in between that could rightly have been termed vernal? No, and I doubt that any New Englanders felt the sting of this injustice more sharply than bike commuters.
