Pork Chop Bridge Session
One night we had stopped for a slice on the island end of the Williamsburg bridge, and were watching a guy with a pair of very deep, very narrow bars on his fixie. It looked like his bike had been run over. He rode up and said something like "watch my bike?" It was hard to tell, because his words had to work their way around the pizza crust that he was holding in his teeth like a harmonica while he ate it. He went in, grabbed another slice, and rode off.
We passed him walking with a friend on the bridge, and stopped again at the summit for the usual. He rode up and asked for a light, and we shared his spliff. Only then did he notice our bikes. Holy shit, you guys are Chunk! My name's Gigi, you can call me Pork Chop, I ride with the Black Label, this is Scott.
I lined them up for a picture, and he drew a knife from his bag for effect.