The bike laid next to a "Bike Vancouver" bike rack quietly and stubbornly. Her skeleton was black and a small pink Kryptonite held her close to the rack. She was brutally minimalistic. Without a kickstand, she's leaning against the small steel structure, resting her entire weight, light but sturdy, on the support. I took a step closer and realize she's without brakes. I frowned, and the bike simply stared back defiantly. With a skinny Brooks saddle, placed rather high up compared to the handlebars, I knew the owner was a savvy hardcore biker. In between the spokes, a picture of a woman - perhaps an actress or singer from the 70s that I couldn't recognize - was nicely placed, but precariously. What is the rider trying to say about himself? He also is riding without lights or a rack. No stickers, no colours, no visible brand name. You'd think he's a humble and low-key personality, but the small touches of customization makes me feel he's trying to say s...