When he first started, he wore big-ass boots and was fast, hence the nickname. He's still fast, but has graduated to
Lake's, the same ones I wear. I copied him actually.
Fastboots used to work for
Speedway (my
company) but now rides for
Godspeed, the bad-asses of the San Francisco bike messenger scene.
Peter's a solid chap and a solid messenger. As you can see above, he's a lanky, tall drink of water who has a soft spot for hats nobody else wanted to buy. I'm kidding, it's a nice cap. If you look closely you'll see that even at his part time gig at a
bike shop he still rocks the messenger key loop on his right arm.
Godspeed, Fast Boots.
Pier 39 is truly the 39th circle of Hell, one of the worst places in San Francisco, and should be avoided at all costs along with Fisherman's Wharf, Ghiradelli Square and jail.
Then today I had to drop off a big roll from 2nd street to a jobsite on 5600 3rd St. A "jobsite" is usually a trailer set up near a construction site. This one wasn't occupied this afternoon so I had to take the roll back. Luckily I had a drop on Yosemite St. nearby, so riding way the hell out to the HP wasn't a total loss.
There I had to walk through some mystery workshop to find the recipient of the odd-shaped package I'd carried over. There were two barrels full of green liquid, spinning:
And this:
Not sure either. I rode back to 461 2nd, another fresh atrium and returned the roll:
