Last week I needed to get to Santana Row to buy my partner a tie for his birthday at the Farragamo shop. I was on my bike in Palo Alto at a meeting when it started raining, and then I rode in the rain (and of course, I haven't put my fenders on yet) to Sunnyvale for a physical therapy appointment. While there, I debated–could I really roll up to a poshy store in Santana Row and walk in scummy and wet, leaning my bike at the door?

I debated with my physical therapist, who sympathized with my plight. Luckily it had stopped raining by the time I left for the 11-mile ride down to Santana Row. I pulled up to the store with some trepidation, leaning my bike in the doorway. As I did so, I noticed a sales clerk walking towards me. “Uh oh,” I thought. Aloud, I asked, “do you think my bike is okay here?”

“Why don't you bring it in?” he said. What? My eyebrow raised, expecting some sort of trap, I said, “Really? It's a bit wet…”

“Sure, no problem!” he said, and promptly led me to the back of the store, where I leaned my bike up in a spot where it wouldn't be in the way.

As I selected Andy's new tie (zebras, if you were curious) the sales guy explained how the store manager rides his bike to work. Wow. Ok, so I guess I shouldn't be so prejudiced against those poshy stores in Santana Row, anymore.

This means the bicycle culture has arrived, really arrived.