My coupon was about to expire, so I took my Tuesday afternoon self down to the Sports Legends Museum at Camden Yards and locked my bike up to the new bike racks they’ve installed by the baseball stadium as a way to encourage me to “Go Green.” I wonder if there are folks who ride a bike because it’s “green” rather than because it’s fun, cheap, easier than driving and parking, faster than the bus, or any of the reasons I ride a bike. I remember when I quit smoking–I suddenly cared deeply about the deep imbrication of tobacco production with the growth of southern plantation slavery, but that’s certainly not why I quit smoking. But hey, anything that gets you off the smokes and on the bike will make you a happier camper, in my opinion. Anyway, I entered the museum not sure I would be able to make it interesting. I don’t actually have a deep native interest in seeing the baseball cards of Baltimore’s minor league players from the first half of the 20th century or a pictorial history of field hockey at the University of Maryland, but I can get into pretty much anything. This was a good test, made easier when the first exhibit was about trains and had all the wooshing sound effects I could ask for. The one other visitor and I could both sit in old train seats and listen to oral histories by pushing a button on the wall. Other highlights included the room where you could try on uniforms, a video about how they make bats (hint: very carefully), marching band and cheerleader outfits Through The Ages, and then the one wall panel about Title IX that let women show up for a brief second in this place. I spent way more time than expected here, and will have to save Babe Ruth’s Birthplace for another trip. I snapped this picture in the parking lot behind the museum as I was headed over to Federal Hill to visit A. and K. on their new roof deck (I’m finally making the right friends!). So. Many Tires. They are cleaning up after the Grand Prix, and I’m guessing all of these are used tires that are now on their way to wherever used tires go. The cages are still up on the downtown streets, and the place still feels like a ghost town. Although I disagree with the suit who cheerfully declared, “It’s just like being in prison!” as we crossed Howard together, it does feel weird and unnecessary, and as I watched this waste I thought to myself, yeah, I’d rather see some minor league baseball game or that national champion shot putter from UMBC before seeing another Grand Prix. A couple hours on the deck and a zippy ride home up Calvert and I was again grateful for a bicycle and blue skies.