I didn't get a chance to go to Vincent Chin's grave, but if you're not familiar with his story, you should take a moment to Google his name or look him up on Wikipedia. (I can't get the link function to work right now.) I remember watching "Who Killed Vincent Chin?" years ago, and could never get the heartbreaking image of Vincent's mother's hands, as she wrung them in anguish, out of my head. As far as I know, the two guys who beat him to death are out there living their lives, never having spent a day in jail or paid a dime to his family. In 2002, his mom, Lily, also passed away. I'd like to say RIP Lily, but somehow, very sadly, I don't think that's the case.

I'm in Dearborn, Michigan for work. Not sure what else to say. The roads are big and it's eerily quiet. It has the largest concentration of Arabs outside of the Middle East and is home to the production facilities of the Ford F-150. In fact, my hotel was built by Henry Ford and is in the middle of a block surrounded by the Ford World Headquarters, Henry Ford village and museum, and the Henry Ford Centennial Library. Some of it is protected by giant concrete walls, which adds to the strange muffled effect here. Last night, I got back to my hotel and ended up walking two miles to get away from it all and ended up at a strip mall occupied by mega chain stores. Once I got to the entrance of the parking lot, it was about another half-mile to reach the actual shops. Tonight, I found the Westborn Fruit Market (off Michigan Ave and whatever the name of this street is) where I sampled free bread and olive oil. Highly recommended if you're ever in the neighborhood. Tomorrow, I might try to go to Detroit's Forest Lawn Cemetery and look for the grave of Vincent Chin.

Last summer, I went on a road trip with a couple of good friends -- only they didn't ride in a car. Instead, they biked the 900 or so miles from Seattle to San Francisco while I trailed them in, yes, a gas-guzzling rental. When we got to Lincoln, Oregon, I bought a surfboard which I rode everyday in various shark-friendly spots down the Pacific Northwest. On a whim, I had also borrowed my dad's video camera and ended up making a short film about the trip that got accepted into the Bicycle Film Festival this year. If you want to see it or just like bikes, you should stop by the festival this weekend in New York City at the Anthology Film Archives on 2nd Ave and 2nd St. I know the film fest is almost halfway over, but you can ask Eric and Martin -- I'm always late on deadlines. Plus, if you live in L.A. , SF, Tokyo or the other cities where the BFF will eventually play in, I'm way ahead of schedule. Oh yeah, my movie is called "What's Your Name?"

Ever wonder what a sea of humanity looks like? My friend Jos took this picture Sunday morning around 7 a.m. off Church Street, at the start of NYC's Five Boro Bike Tour. We were there with some 45,000 cyclists, ready to ride 42 miles of car-free roads, including the FDR drive, the BQE, and the Verrazzano-Narrows bridge to Staten Island. Ever wonder what it feels like to be in a sea of humanity straddling a sea of spokes and derailleurs? I'm still trying to get my brain around that one. But it is a strange thing to witness one person tip over on a bike --taking out six others in the process-- and having to just keep moving.